


give me all you are (promise not to hurt you)

by doleurexquise (seesaaws)



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Mythology, Angst, Character's Name Spelled as Viktor, Depressed Victor Nikiforov, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, F/M, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Mentions of rape/ non-con in chapters 4 and 8!!, Oblivious Katsuki Yuuri, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Relationship(s), Self-Esteem Issues, Slow Burn, Suicide Attempt, The Fates - Freeform, Triggers, Victor Nikiforov is Extra, Yuuri is Death, a lot of metaphors, later fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-22
Updated: 2018-05-19
Packaged: 2019-02-18 06:26:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 13
Words: 23,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13094325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seesaaws/pseuds/doleurexquise
Summary: "you want to be beautiful whenyou are your most vulnerable; when there aretears in your eyes and rocks in your heart.you still want to be loved when your mindis screaming things your heart knows isn't true,but your head believes.you want to be loved evenwhen you cannot stomach the veryconcept of foreign emotions that have no place in your heartbut darling the whole point of life is to hurt and to heal, so forgive me for sayingyou will not be loved by anotherbefore you are loved by yourself."





	1. i. live a lie

**Author's Note:**

> warnings:
> 
> rape  
> angst  
> mentions of past rape, suicidal thoughts, past self-harm, mental breakdowns, alcohol abuse  
> suicide attempts  
> anxiety  
> alcoholism  
> self harm  
> later smut  
> strong language
> 
> if any of these make you uncomfortable or anxious in any way please stop reading, take a breather, remind yourself of the pleasant things in life.
> 
> im always here
> 
> x rory

Technically speaking, he wasn't supposed to save lives. It wasn't really in the 'job description', and Death obeyed that.

Or he tried to. He'd been making a couple mistakes recently. 

Death was the first creation following the formation of The Universe.

The second oldest being in time after The Big Bang. Being the most powerful force in existence, The Universe molded stray stardust and molecules of the developing planets and blossoming moons to construct Death. Death was composed of _everything_ in existence, yet was empty. When the light and particles of oblivion that the cosmos held molded and fused together; new green eyes opened and found The Universe staring at them. 

That day Death was given clear instructions by Them. Death was created for one reason; Death served The Universe as a force meant to gather souls and guide them in moving on to the next world.

Death had a routine, and if he could feel, Death would realize how painfully boring it was.

He was no mundane, but Death still resembled a human. And, if he became so uninterested with his routine, Death would take on a new look. He'd only tried to be a female once. But the amount of times Death had to put up with disgusting men, prying eyes and flirtatious words that oozed lust was alarming and very disturbing. But he did believe that he could make a pretty girl. 

The new human he would resemble never lasted long; he preferred the tall frame, brown eyes, black hair and olive toned skin he'd selected about 2,000 years back. 

Death stopped counting how old he was when he first saw him. However, _he_ was 23. A silver-haired shadow that crossed the boundaries of beauty. On and off the ice. With opalescent irises that screamed eternal light in the beginning and a soul that had hollowed as he grew older.

His spirit displayed emotions Death had seen too often; he was no stranger to loneliness and melancholy and everything depression came with. But he had never seen the variety of emotions in his kind of soul.

Viktor. That was his name. Viktor Nikiforov. He was always teetering on the edge of depression. He had a soul that swung back and forth between happy and numb. And it was not happy sometimes and numb others; it was always in between.

Death was intrigued, to say the least. Mortals could display their emotions and the condition of their souls only so he could see them, only so Death could see their final breath. 

As the years went on, he saw Viktor winning medal after medal on ice. Death later discovered that he was a competitive figure skater; the best competitive figure skater in _history_ , to add. 

Viktor was the best. He'd been the best for several years. And yet, Death could see Viktor feeling nothing.

He was deteriorating and while devastating to witness; it was fascinating to see Viktor pull on a bitter smile even if he was screaming inside.

Death saw Viktor whenever he could, whenever his mind wandered too often.

25, and Grand Prix Final champion and gold medalist at Worlds. 26, Grand Prix Final champion. Gold medalist at Worlds with yet another one of his world records broken. 27, he had the same fate. 

5-year gold medalist. 5 year World Champion. 

There was much to be proud of. And yet, Viktor was still clutched by the inescapable jaws of self-depreciation and hatred.

Death was no stranger to these kinds of humans, and yet Viktor was the most interesting.

So he made it his hobby to see Viktor whenever his job would allow him.

He was there when Viktor walked his dog in the mornings when the sun had begun to rise and the beams of light illuminated Viktor's face and made his silver hair and bright blue eyes glisten and sparkle. Death was there when Makkachin passed away. He was there when Viktor cried himself to sleep because Makka was the only thing Viktor had left, and she was gone. Death was there. 

He was there when Viktor cried during the late lonely hours when the moon was high and insomnia managed to grip the Russian tightly.

Death was there while Viktor engaged in drunken acts such as fornication and alcoholism and it was odd to notice the stirring in his gut when seeing Viktor moan and whimper. He didn't like knowing that other people who meant nothing to Viktor had the right to touch him. His body was a temple, and it should've only been worshipped by those who knew Viktor and not Viktor Nikiforov. But that didn't matter cause when the lover for the night left, Viktor would sit at the edge of his bed, head hung low as tears rolled down his face.

Death was there when Viktor practiced at the skating rink and he was there when 25-year-old Viktor Nikiforov, unknowingly, named him.

A small petite blond male was yelling Viktor's name while screaming: "stop fucking spacing out! Yakov is giving me a godamn headache with all his yelling!"

Viktor stirred from his thoughts but still smiled warmly at the younger male.

"Sorry, Yuri! I'm tired and a little out of it today,"

Death cocked his head to the side as he observed. Yuri Plisetsky, 14 years old and lonely underneath the angry facade he kept.

He liked that name.

Viktors pronunciation was lovely, and his tongue rolled the syllables of the name in a manner Death found pleasing.

However, if it was spelled exactly the same, it would be Russian, and The Universe told Death centuries back he was supposed to resemble a Japanese man. So when Death asked Them how it would be spelled in the Japanese language; They spelled out the version with Their finger.

Yuuri.

At that moment, after eons of being nameless; he was Yuuri.

Yuuri then saw Viktor's soul desperately yearning for human touch as time drew on. He yearned for companionship and Yuuri soon found that the sensation had grown stronger and stronger as the years passed.

It was the night of the Sochi Grand Prix Final that Viktor had won his sixth consecutive gold medal. It laid heavy in the Russians palm; he didn't even want to look at it.

He got up from his hotel room bed at 4 AM after arriving back from the banquet at 3. He spent the hour sitting on the edge of his bed; eyes staring blankly at the medal in his palm.

The Russians decision to arise was sudden, he was laying in bed with his suit still on. And the next minute Viktor was tugging on shoes, a coat over the suit and a scarf for the cold.

He wandered aimlessly, but also not wandering at all; Viktor knew Russia and he knew where he was going.

Yuuri followed the skater without actually knowing it. He trailed behind the figure in curiosity and also dread; Viktor's soul was...different tonight.

Yuuri saw Viktor scooting dangerously close to a bridge that was constructed over a river. The cold was bitter, but he could not feel the icy wind against his face or the snowflakes land and melt against his skin. 

Yuuri only knew it was cold by the heavy coats and scarves Viktor wore along with the red tint that grazed his cheeks and settled on the tip of his nose. The Russian had tears spilling down his face and he raised his head to the sky as his trembling digits squeezed the medal harder.

He raised his arm and went to throw the medal into the water. Yuuri saw Viktor bite his lip harshly as his arm froze; not able to complete the task.

Viktor let out a frustrated cry as he finally lowered his arm and let it go limp at his side; the ribbon finally slipping from his grasp and flattering onto the ground with echoes of forgotten happiness. The tears didn't stop raining as he tangled his fingers in silver hair and tugged harshly in an attempt to feel something other than emptiness. And as the tears refused to end, neither did Viktor's pain.

Yuuri looked at the sight with a frown. He had seen too many tears slip from the Russians eyes and it wasn't a good feeling.

As Yuuri gazed into the skater, his breath hitched and his muscles froze as he noticed one distinct feature in Viktor's soul.

It was a slow realization, but when he saw the dark grey begin to mix with the faded yellow of Viktor's soul; he automatically knew.

Viktor Nikiforov was going to die tonight.


	2. ii. save a life but don't try to live one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 'You cannot see what I see,' Yuuri thought pitifully as he stared at the deteriorating Russian 'And that is the biggest calamity. That is a shame of unknown magnitudes.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> READ THE END NOTES PLS! 'TIS VERY IMPORTANT

Yuuri wasn't supposed to intervene. He wasn't supposed to and he knew that.

But somehow he found himself reaching out with gentle fingers towards Viktor's shoulder that heaved with sobs. Yuuri pressed his palm flat against Viktor's arm and felt the Russian still.

His head snapped up to meet Yuuri's gaze. Blue eyes were welled with tears and his lip wobbled while staring the the stranger. Yuuri quickly retracted his touch, startled by Viktor's reaction.

The Russian took several steps back, he looked at Yuuri intently before mounting the edge of the bridge. Viktor hung his head to look down at the water, silver hair covering his face.

Yuuri knew he should turn around, he shouldn't be doing this. _That was the only rule. Death controls the dead souls, not the living! There's a specific person for that!_

_Leave. Leave! Turn around for Fucks sake! There is **one** rule Yuuri! You have one rule to follow!_

This was Viktor's fate -it had been decided already. Yuuri repeated in his head over and over in an attempt to rethink.

But despite knowing all the consequences and all the corruption Viktor's life would cause; the words still tumbled out of Yuuri's mouth.

"Wait." Yuuri surprised himself and gulped when Viktor jerked his head sideways to stare at him.

"I- don't." Viktor croaked, voice hoarse from sobs and tears. "P-please. Don't try and stop me. You'll fail. I-I can't take t-this anymore and I-I don't want to." Viktor's voice was wobbly and he broke off a couple times to hiccup through his sobs.

Yuuri took a deep breath before trying the first thing that came to mind; attempting to distract from the situation.

"Okay. I'm going to ask you to breathe. J-just breathe with me. I-If it's alright with you, maybe w-we could talk?" Yuuri technically wasn't supposed to have a heart, but he could still feel his useless pulse racing because Viktor had hung over the edge for too long and he was tired. And at the moment Yuuri's mind was racing but with the same sentences in every thought.

 _I can't let Viktor's life end this way. You can't see what I see. And that is the biggest calamity. That is_ _the saddest shame._

"P-please. What can't you take? What's so troubling? I-I'm sorry if I'm being...pushy. But I-I want to u-understand why you want to do this."

Viktor stared at Yuuri, his mouth opened and closed as he gathered his thoughts. Moments of silence ticked away before the Russian spoke again.

"I-everything. I can't handle trying to be two people at once." Yuuri furrowed his eyebrows, trying to comprehend.

"Who are those two people? Who are you trying to be?" Viktor heaved in a sob, tears escaping as the whispering wind blew in between the two.

"D-do you know who I am?" Viktor asked quietly, Yuuri nodded in confirmation. "Then you know that I-I'm a competitive figure skater, right?"

"You're Viktor Nikiforov." The name felt foreign on Yuuri's tongue as he uttered it for the first time. But at the same time, it felt warm and sweet and almost...right. "You just won your sixth gold medal. I-I pretty sure you're a god and a legend in the sport."

Viktor nodded his head, as if expecting the answer.

"That. That's what I can't handle. I-I want to make mistakes. I wanna... I want t-to skate without worrying about posture and perfection, and I want to feel like I'm actually competing and not automatically given the gold just because of who I am and what I've accomplished. I want t-to get a score under 98 for my short program and it's- I can't surprise people anymore! That's all I've ever wanted to do. That's all I ever did- but no ones surprised anymore. I feel like I've disappointed everyone. They all want to me to retire, they're waiting for the announcement, but I-I don't want to disappoint my coach and my fans and everyone who watches me skate."

"And you think this won't disappoint them?" Yuuri could hear the harshness in his own voice. Viktor was, literally, on the edge of suicide because the people who 'support' him do not realize he is a person with needs and feelings and Yuuri was all of a sudden struck with a sensation that made his stomach clench and blood churn.

Viktor stayed silent for long seconds, he wiped his eyes with the back of his palm and looked at Yuuri with pleading eyes. He was a mess, and Yuuri could not- and would not leave him that way.

Yuuri sighed, fixating his gaze on the snow covered ground before looking back up at Viktor. The Russian hesitated in responding and Yuuri caught it. He noticed the hitch in Viktor's breath as he opened his mouth before pursing his lips and turning away.

His eyes were squeezed shut as he began speaking "...I'm selfish. I know I am. But I don't feel the need to be here. I don't have anyone I can talk to. I'm _lonely_. I'm so lonely yet I find myself surrounded by people at all times. I've disappointed everyone.....so I suppose one last let down won't change anything." 

Yuuri didn't say anything as Viktor stopped talking. It stung to hear that Viktor had decided to end his life and he often thought about it. Mainly because Yuuri didn't truly comprehend the reason; Viktor was obviously passionate about skating and adored his supporters. It just didn't make sense why he wanted this.

But one realization made Yuuri stop; Viktor hadn't jumped. Yuuri had managed to stall the Russian and even if Yuuri didn't really help him, he still blocked the bad thoughts from Viktor's head.

It was a lovely feeling.

Viktor kept quiet as he turned back towards the water. The nightly breeze has begun to pick up and wash over the pair; silver Russian locks gently fluttering along with the scarf that adorned his neck.

"What's your name?" His tired voice finally said after moments of silence as he gazed at Yuuri with narrowed eyes. Yuuri glanced up, his mouth suddenly drying at Viktor's appearance. He was always lovely.

Was that supposed to happen?

"I-Yuuri....That's my name." Viktor peered at the stranger and Yuuri could only gulp at the sensation of icy eyes bleeding blue warmth into his own irises.

"You don't look Russian...nor do you look like the type of person to come to bridges at 4 in the morning.... so why are you here? I mean, why are you talking to me?"

Yuuri flushed, casting his gaze to the ground. He shrugged lightly before looking up again.

"I'm not really sure. I was just wandering...but I...I think I just wanted to talk to you." It wasn't a total lie, Yuuri told himself, because it wasn't. He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion when Viktor let out a dry chuckle as he stared at Yuuri. His gaze was filled with an emotion he hadn't seen before -at least not in Viktor's soul; he was looking at Yuuri almost with disappointment. 

"So...." He whispered hoarsely, he looked away with a shake of his head. He cleared his throat before continuing. "you're a fan."

 The Russian looked so ashamed in himself; Yuuri could see the resentment and self hatred in him; like he was stupid to think people saw him as a person with feelings and not an opportunity for likes on social media. 

"Uh...I-no." Yuuri replied quickly. Viktor's somber demeanor quickly fell as a look of astonishment settled instead. He stared at Yuuri with wide eyes and a slightly agape mouth.

"I'm not a fan... I-I mean what you skate and how you do it is most likely amazing if you've won so many medals... and viewed so highly. But I don't understand the sport... You looked like you needed someone; so, here I am." He shrugged nonchalantly as he finished speaking. Yuuri could feel Viktors stare and the emotions that quickly swarmed his soul; disbelief, surprise, warmth, happiness and the one that seemed to shine the brightest: hope.

The light of the emotion lit the darkness of Viktor's soul and the more the hope strained to be seen; the stronger it radiated.

Viktor sniffled, looking down at the water again as it roared and sloshed loudly as the water made its way down the bank. Yuuri saw the gold medal glisten in the moonlight on the ground and quickly bent down to retrieve it.

When he stood back up to offer the medal back to the Russian Yuuri was surprised to see Viktor standing at his level. He no longer stood much taller than Yuuri, Viktor's height was slightly above his own, a couple centimeters taller than himself.

Viktor outstretched his palm to grasp the ribbon of the achievement. He gazed down at it briefly, his face tightening in thought before he stepped once more towards the edge. And before Yuuri could process his intentions Viktor had thrown the medal into the river, the circular object glimmering and shining as the moonlight captured certain angles for brief passing moments.

Yuuri looked to view the medal as it fell into the water but caught no sight of it. A thick silence fell between the pair and after several seconds Viktor cleared his throat in an effort to grab Yuuri's attention. He offered a tiny smile at the Russian, who simply nodded towards the direction of the water.

"I-I didn't need a reminder of today, n-not in that shape, at least." Yuuri nodded even though he did not understand the meaning nor the purpose, but if it had made Viktor feel better then so be it.

"Can I suggest something?" Yuuri spoke quietly, he had many questions along with many suggestions and many things that could fix Viktor. But he also didn't need to be fixed, just a little mending here and there. He wasn't broken but merely alone. Upon getting the nod of confirmation from Viktor, Yuuri spoke. "I think you should maybe stay with a friend. I think you should be surrounded with people you love and people you can talk to and those you trust."

Viktor craved companionship and love and it wasn't uncommon in humans, but Yuuri was so intrigued by him. It was indescribable and albeit a bit frustrating. His soul could quickly be distinguished in a sea of mundane spirits; Viktor was special, no doubt about it. But he was special in a way that Yuuri couldn't pinpoint. 

He saw the Russian nod in agreement. The quiet night was screaming with snow and wind as the air pushed Yuuri's hair back from his face. 

It was only then Yuuri realized Viktor's beauty. After years of watching and observing him, Yuuri realized that Viktor had always been beautiful, but Yuuri mainly saw the features of his soul instead of the anatomy surrounding it. To Death, it was merely a shell, a costume, it didn't show their inner characteristics. 

But now, Yuuri was looking at Viktor up close; he was conversing, interacting, helping. 

He was breathtaking. His body suited his soul. In a way, Viktor had died. Perhaps he'd died multiple times. But he was reborn again after some decades. 

His soul never stopped living. 

But Yuuri'd existed for eons and he had remembered every soul he collected. Which, needless to say, was a great amount. But Viktor was, without a doubt, the most beautiful he'd seen. Inside and out.  

Yuuri marveled at his eyes that were piercingly iridescent; crystal blue in some angles, and a mixture of the icy cerulean and warm grey in others. Yuuri had seen these eyes frequently for almost 5 years, and he'd seen the transition his soul had gone under, and still, Viktor shined in a dull manner.

He examined the pale Russian skin and the way it almost blended with the snow that had started to descend faster. That observation brought Yuuri back to his senses. 

"Yuuri?" He heard a gentle voice speak. Viktor spoke his name differently then when he spoke to Yuri Plisetsky. Viktor's voice held a hint of hesitation, a mixture of anxiety and fear. 

But the pronunciation made a tiny sensation awaken inside of Yuuri. "I'm scared." 

At that, Death offered a weak pitiful smile, "Of course. You have a right to be scared. This is life. And if life wasn't scary; I think we'd all be bored." 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY so I've been getting some comments saying that this is the same as 'A Change Of Fate' by another author ( I can't remember their name sorry :// )  
> I'm going to be honest and say that I did read that story and I did use that concept, BUT I'm here to say that mine will be much different. Different roles for characters, different problems, different ending.  
> SO please understand that I can't plagiarize a story as wonderful and captivating as 'A Change Of Fate' It wouldn't even be a quarter as good as the original. Thanks bbys! 
> 
> x rory


	3. iii. enemies are for a reason

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor stays with Yuri after conversing with the mysterious stranger who made him feel something he can't forget. 
> 
> Yuuri gets summoned by Phichit Chulanont, one of the three Destiny Rulers, upset and confused as to why a mortals life had continued after he'd, supposedly, ended it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning: strong language
> 
> some mythological references ahead, states different names from different religions, mythologies and cultures but just know that they all mean the same thing: 
> 
> 3 females (males in this case) who control 3 things: the way a human dies, when they die, who dies and who lives after their death
> 
> Just a side note: Yuuri and Phichit actually hate each other in this AU. I thought it'd be pretty fun to write and also a big challenge. It's so different than usually having them be best friends....
> 
> This is gonna be interesting.

_"You have a right to be scared. This is life. And if life wasn't scary; I think we'd all be bored."_

-

Viktor looked at Yuuri with furrowed eyebrows, mouth fumbling for an answer but all he could think of was the fact that Yuuri was incredibly philosophical. Yuuri offered him a gentle smile after speaking, almost as if he knew what Viktor was thinking. 

The foreigner's gaze suddenly hardened, his eyebrows scrunched together as he stared at something behind Viktor with alert and darkened eyes. The Russian glanced over his shoulder to try to understand but the only thing in sight was the falling snow that glistened underneath the light of the street lamp.

When he turned back to look at Yuuri, he was torn from what he had been glaring at and his gaze flickered over to Viktor's face. His expression softened upon looking at him. 

The Russian fumbled for words again. And feeling Yuuri's gaze that was too fond for his heart Viktor stammered and racked his brain for words, trying to get his question out the right way. 

"Yu-Yuuri...I-uh, I just- uhm-" he cut himself off with a curse, shaking his head in disappointment and frustration. His eyes prickled with tears, 

"Take your time, Viktor," Yuuri's gentle voice spoke in a reassuring tone. "I'm not going anywhere."

In another case, Viktor would've gotten frustrated because his thoughts were too jumbled and his tongue wouldn't flow the way he wanted it to; he also would've felt insecure because he was wasting people's time simply cause he couldn't say a single sentence. But Yuuri was kind and understanding, his voice held nothing but sincerity and patience as he urged the Russian to continue. 

So Viktor took deep breaths, he shut his eyes and focused on the expanding and collapsing of his lungs instead of his nostrils burning when the bitter air was inhaled through his nose. He let out loose shaky breaths through his nose; 

"I...I wa-want to say thank y-you." The Russian mumbled in a soft voice, "D-do you think maybe w-we can, uhm, m-meet up later th-this week?...Y-you don't have-have to if you don't want to! I w-was ju-just wondering.." Viktor cursed himself yet again. God he was such a damn wreck.

Yuuri smiled gracefully, feeling a sense of pride for Viktor. The Russian finished his sentence with a blush tinging his cheeks as he looked down.

"I'd love to, Viktor... Whenever you have time will work for me." Yuuri said, not even fighting the smile that rose on his lips at the sight Viktor's shocked expression and pleasant flush.

Viktor nodded, stating that there was a used bookstore with a cafe less than a kilometer away and the day that would best accommodate his schedule; Tuesday of the following week. 

In 3 days.

A strange aura swarmed the Russian. In a way he couldn't explain nor pinpoint. Viktor was about to end his life; on a precipice ready to throw himself into oblivion with nothing to say and no one to truly mourn him.

But Yuuri was here; very much alive and very much talking to him.

Viktor felt it. He's not entirely sure when he realized the feeling but it was only after they had parted ways with Viktor thanking Yuuri profusely and promising he would not stay alone until Tuesday did he realize the weightless sensation that surrounded him.

It was only when Viktor saw Yuuri head in the direction towards the street lamp he had been staring at earlier did Viktor feel the change in his own soul; slight, not enough to make Viktor want to live but enough for him to notice. 

He felt lighter and it was only when he turned to look at Yuuri's disappearing figure did he realize what the change was; 

Hope. 

__

 

"What the hell did you do?" Phichit, the Inevitable Fate, growled when Death appeared into the house that stood in his realm of peace. Yuuri looked at Phichit with intense eyes, capturing his appearance; his tan skin had paled considerably and his mocha eyes were burning with anger, almost as if he already knew the gravity of the situation that he still had no clue of. 

Before he could question how the hell they were doing in his house Phichit had begun his tantrum. 

"Death only does his job _after_ we do ours!" He hissed as he stared at Yuuri with aggravation and hatred simmering in his eyes. "We kill the mortals first! We make them die the way it was decided when they came to exist. And then-Only then!" Phichit jabbed a finger onto the elders chest, snarling in his face as he continued to speak. "Only when we finish do you play housekeeper to clean up! You don't intervene with people's deaths; that's the only rule you have to follow I don't know what the hell is so difficult about that you fucking idiot!

We don't need a morons help to do our jobs, unlike you!" Yuuri resisted the urge to slice his throat with a flick of his wrist, the way he always had to when Phichit pissed him off.

Phichit only had to look at him and Death would want to end him in that second. He was the annoying Fate; the one Yuuri wished he could put in his place every time Phichit was rude and ignorant and every time he spat out pure stupidity. 

So Yuuri basically wanted to kill him every moment Phichit existed. 

Yuuri decided that the moment the three beings of Destiny came to exist.

When The Universe created the Fates They had said to Death that these three beings of Destiny were each going to represent the major mundane population in their own way. 

And The Universe never failed. 

Death was there when Destiny was created and was tasked by The Universe to see each of their souls and learn the kind of mortals he would face: 

Otabek (the fate who was created to decide the length of a mortals life) was reserved but kind. He seemed to understand and tried his best to help his brothers in any way possible. He tried profusely to keep his other two brothers in check; it hardly ever worked. 

Christophe (the fate who decided the living mortals and the dead ones) had a flirtatious aura; he was inappropriate and loud at times but he knew when to focus and when to keep his comments to himself. He was immaturely sophisticated. 

But Phichit, Phichit was disastrous. He portrayed the mortals with the souls Death had no problem collecting; shrewd and despicable; arrogant and selfish; incredibly ignorant and insensitive. 

Frankly, Phichit was only still alive because The Universe refused to let Death end his existence.

_"Death," They had said when Yuuri came to Them in anger and frustration at Phichit's comments and behavior that never seemed to end. "He is the being that every mortal faces. He represents the only problem humans will ever face; he has the soul that can ultimately ruin lives. While Phichit himself is not human; you, Death, will learn from his soul. You will know the way to heal the mortals that his kind have hurt. You will reject those like Phichit and welcome those who his kind hurt."_

Phichit continued screaming at Yuuri, calling him an abundance of names that really only proved Yuuri's point. Phichit's loud voice made more anger rise in him, snapping him out of his trance. Death rolled his eyes shamelessly and leaned in to whisper in Phichit's ear. 

"Stop forgetting your place." Yuuri spoke in a collected tone. He could feel the shiver that ran down the younger males neck. "You're not the only ones here who can kill. You only kill mortals, but I have the power to kill anything almost anything. Just provoke me enough, Destiny, and you'll find out what else this little house keeper can do." 

Yuuri spared a wavering glance at the Otabek and Chris standing in Yuuri's doorway, the pair were wide-eyed and startled by the interaction. Yuuri huffed before addressing the trio in a gruff voice.

"I want you all gone in 5 minutes... Otabek, I'm only going to tell you and Christophe once," He glanced at Phichit with disgust, his back was turned from Yuuri, but even so Death could see his soul that was about to overflow with rage. He smirked

You either get rid of the pest or I'll call the exterminator."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yiKes it took a while for me to update sorry ):  
> It's also a bit short than i would've liked, but i wanted to publish something.  
> Follow me on tumblr: @cherrypetalzz - (personal)  
> @mellowyellowvitya - [anime blog (mostly yoi)]


	4. iv. show your scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri spend three days distracted, frustrated and eventually enraged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: 
> 
> IMPLIED AND MENTIONS OF RAPE/NON-CON
> 
> THIS IS ONLY CHAPTER WITH THESE KINDS OF TRIGGERS, PLS BE SAFE. TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF <3

Death tried his hardest to ignore the thoughts of Viktor that plagued his mind. However, it seemed the more he tried to work the more Viktor forced himself in Yuuri's thoughts; he couldn't stop.

His presence was everlasting and numerous thoughts came in and out sporadically.

Was Viktor okay? Was he taking care of himself? Where did he go stay? With whom? Has he tried again?

Yuuri grew increasingly frustrated with himself as the hours (which felt like centuries) passed.

Its less than 3 days. Less than 72 hours, get over yourself.

But curiosity sunk its teeth into Yuuri's flesh and refused to let go; a hamartia in itself. Yuuri heaved a sigh in exhaustion as night fell in Italy, he had just guided a few souls before the air stilled. Only for a moment.

These seconds almost never happened; someone always died everyday. And everyday Yuuri helped someone new.

But these moments are rare, the air is almost never still; always a hum resonating from civilization or a whisper of the wind ringing in Yuuri's ears.

He enjoyed those brief seconds. But all too soon another soul was crying, and Yuuri was a slave to those in need.

-

"Hello, Mister." A small voice quipped, gathering Yuuri's attention. He smiled fondly down at the small child. Her name was Remington.

The girl was about 7 years old, she had ivory skin with mocha eyes to match. Her dark brown hair floated down to the small of her back. She smiled up at Yuuri, her head cocked to the side with an adorable pout on her lips.

"Where are we Mister?" She asked as she looked around but only saw Yuuri. The elder crouched down to meet her height, looking into her brown eyes to see what he needed to know.

-

_"Remmy baby," a gruff voice spoke, Remmy stared up at her daddy. He was looking at her funny. His hand was squeezing her leg, she giggled._

_"Daddy why are you looking at me like that?..Why did you lock the door Daddy?" Remmy stared at her father as his hand crept higher on her thin leg._

_"Baby," Remmys dad said as he finally closed in on what he wanted, Remmy could smell the 'bad stuff' on his breath and it only heightened her nerves. "You gotta promise daddy you won't tell mommy, mmkay?"_

-

Yuuri looked away, seeing enough. He felt a wave of disgust wash over him at the few moments he saw of Remington's life. Her own father killed her. 

That man and his soul were what Death needed to eradicate.

Yuuri shook his head at himself standing back to his normal height. He took a deep breath before focusing on the small child in front of him. He already knew her name, but still needed to ask.

"What's your name, love?"

Big brown eyes blinked up at him before responding,

"Remington...but I think you can call me Remmy. " She said with a small blush on her cheeks. She gestured for Yuuri to come closer, he obliged. "Not everyone can call me Remmy," Yuuri smiled warmly at her confession, finding the girl precious in her innocence and shy demeanor. He decided to indulge her. 

"Oh? My goodness what an honor! I-I don't know what I, commoner Yuuri, did to ever deserve to call you that, your highness. May I ask why, dear Remmy?" Remmy giggled quietly, her eyes radiating in the dark as she pointed up at him. 

"You're funny.. Momma says only people with a good heart are worth my time...and you have a big big big one! I can tell!" Technically speaking, Yuuri didn't need a heart but he still had one. "Whats your name?" She quipped in curiosity, the elder smiled warmly at her.

"My names Yuuri..you can call me Yuuri I guess.." 

"Yuuri?" A hum came in response. "You have pretty eyes." 

Remmy stared at him with a bashful grin on her features, she seemed a bit flustered by what she said to Yuuri and it only made the task at hand more difficult. The man quickly thanked her, saying she had a pretty everything. 

"Remmy, love," Death started as he knelt to her height. "Do you remember what happened before you came here? Before you saw me?" The small child looked away, a pout settled on her features as she pulled on her thinking face. Moments passed by quickly and Remmy stayed silent. Her voice suddenly echoed in the dark, quiet and reverent as she stared at her hands. 

"Daddy said not to tell anyone...I didn't cause he said it would hurt Momma. But Momma saw that I had purple little spots on me. Bruises? I-I think. She went to go call the police..we didn't know Daddy had already come home..." Her voice trailed off with a small quiver. Yuuri watched with a softened gaze as he listened to her speak.  He watched as tears rained down her cheeks as she began speaking again. "I-I don't r-remember m-much except that Da-daddy was r-really mad. A-and he was h-hurting me. I-I couldn't br-breathe Yuuri." 

Remmy's voice stuttered and she constantly hiccuped through her sentences, by the end Yuuri was hugging her tightly and stroking her hair. 

"Remmy? Love do you want to a new home? This one will be full of amazing things, I promise. You won't remember about you dad or what he did to you. You'll be a happy girl, does that sound nice?" The child sniffled as Yuuri wiped her tears away, a hesitant nod came in reply. 

"Will I see you again Yuuri?" she asked quietly, her voice strained and painfully vulnerable; things a child shouldn't experience so soon. "I don't have many friends and I wanna play with you sometime." Yuuri felt a fond smile creep onto his lips at her request. 

He nodded and hugged the girl again, "I promise Remmy. We'll see each other again." The light appeared behind Remmy, it illuminated Death's face and made him squint. Rummy turned around to face the reverent hue of white. 

She quickly turned after taking some steps towards it; looking back at Yuuri with wide eyes. The man nodded with a simple smile on his lips. "Have a good new life Remmy." 

And then, as quickly as the crack of a whip, she had moved on. 

-

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> its been a while I'm v sorry its short i just needed to post something ):  
> I have a one shot I'm working on called 'Hurricanes' its full of angst but I love it so stay tuned for that ! 
> 
> Have a radical days loves x rory


	5. v. destroy yourself see who gives a fuck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor is on edge with thoughts of death plaguing his head.

Viktor knows Yuri Plisetsky is angry. He's going through that stage anyways, 15 years old and so full of spite even though the loneliness crept up at unwanted times. Viktor went through it himself long ago as well. 

The elder stumbled upon Yuri's hotel room, his room was before Viktor's own, which was good. He wouldn't go back on his promise to Yuuri.

His eyes were stained red, the rosy color blotched the tip of his nose and the edges of his ears, he sniffled as the remnants of cold air stung his nostrils and filled his lungs.

Viktor felt an itch on hid body that he couldn't keep ignoring; an urge to turn around, go back to the bridge and end it.

However, he couldn't shake Yuuri's face from his mind, his features were soft but held strength inside. He was odd, there's no doubt of it.

But he made Viktor feel like he wasn't so alone. So he went against it, knowing Yuuri may be odd but he was kind and understanding and patient. 

The Russian was supposed to leave Sochi about two days after the final...so tomorrow at 9:30 am. But he was staying a little longer to meet with Yuuri,  like they agreed on.

Viktor realized he'd been standing outside Yuri's door for a couple minutes. He raised his fist hesitantly, biting his lower lip harshly so the pain could keep him grounded.

He knocked without even realizing, Yuri was a light sleeper so he no doubt heard. 

Viktor smiled fondly as he heard the string of muffled Russian curses inside the room. The blonde opened his door with a scowl on his face, God help anyone who wakes Yuri Plisetsky up. 

His hair was ruffled and lay messy over his green eyes that squinted sleepily, he stared at Viktor with a glare as he realized who had woken him. 

"What the fuck do you want old man? It's literally 4 in the- holy fuck what the hell happened to you? Have you been crying?" Halfway through Yuri's anger,  he saw Viktor without a mask on. It was a brand new sight to see Viktor with messy hair, blotchy skin, and bloodshot eyes. 

Yuri didn't like it. 

Viktor felt new tears replace the old ones he had kept down for the sake of his sanity. He opened his mouth to speak, but found no words could come out. A breath was inhaled and exhaled shakily, showing Yuri his hesitation. 

"Yura...I-I'm s-sorry for bothering you, b-but can i-i stay the night? I c-cant be a-alone right now." After long moments of silence, Viktor understood that Yuri was repulsed by the idea of Viktor within 5 feet of him. Viktor knew Yuri was going to break out laughing at Viktor's pathetic plead. 

The Russian nodded even though Yuri didn't  tanswer him. "I-I get it. It's okay Yura...good night." He mumbled with a broken voice as he turned around. Go to the bridge, end it at once.

But he didn't even take two steps before Yuri answered. 

"Literally I didn't even say yes or no, old man. I don't know why you think I would see you like this and not help." Yuri murmured, arms crossed over his chest as he continued. "I may be an asshole, but seeing you like this isn't normal at all. I am an asshole but I'm an asshole with a heart." 

Viktor turned with the ghost of a smile on his lips. 

He watched the blonde open the door wider for him to enter through and turn around without a word. Viktor watched as Yuri unfolded the blanket that was on the sofa on the side of the room even though the bed had obviously been slept in. 

Yuri beat Viktor before he could open his mouth to protest. "Shut up and go to sleep, Viktor. Talk to me when you're ready." 

Viktor smiled to himself, Yura was a softie inside. 

The elder settled in the bed after taking off his suit and leaving on his boxers and white undershirt. His eyes drooped with fatigue at once, the day finally taking its toll on him as the warm blankets soothed his icy skin. The silence that settled was thick but Viktor broke it with his voice hoarse from crying. 

"Thank you, Yura."

Silence.

Viktor heard Yuri's response of "Tch. Whatever. I'd never hear the end of it if you did something idiotic and i didn't baby you before. go to sleep old man." 

Viktor got the message. 

"I care and I'm glad you sought help." 

-

Yuri looked at Viktor with narrowed eyes, examining his appearance. The man who stood ten feet away was not the Viktor he had seen hours ago; scared, cold, vulnerable and almost child-like. His eyes held a blue abyss of emptiness, they were still empty. Even now, as Viktor stood much more presentable with perfect hair and flawless smiles that showed no emotion behind them.

The teenager pushed himself off the wall with a sigh as he began walking the opposite way of the Russian, the only thing running through his mind being the question; how hadn't i noticed that before? 

-

Viktor barely noticed the time until the morning rays of light peeked through the curtains that shielded the hotel windows, illuminating the room with dim hues of orange, pink and purple. The Russian rubbed the minimal sleep out of his eyes before standing up to get ready for the day. Yuri had left the day prior, he was obviously hesitant to leave the elder alone, even if he didn't show it. His eyes screamed concern, which was a new sight. 

Viktor reassured the blonde, saying it was just a bad night and he'd be fine. 

Yuri knew it was a lie. Viktor knew that Yuri knew that. 

But the younger can take a hint; Viktor wanted to be alone. 

Yakov threw a fit, naturally. He screamed at the silver haired male, saying 'you cant go on a flight you already fucking paid for, Vitya!" 

Viktor himself was the most stubborn person he knew. He reassured Yakov, saying he'd be on the next flight to St. Petersburg.

"I know Worlds is coming up Yakov, but I need to get away from skating. Just for a week, I'll be back in a week or so. I promise." 

The elder grumbled in annoyance, knowing he couldn't do anything anymore. Viktor had made up his mind. 

The Russian team left that morning at 8:30. The drive would be about 20 minutes and the process of security would be another half hour. It was Aeroflot anyways, they'd probably board the plane at 1:30. 

Viktor felt a bundle of nerves swarm in his gut; he'd be seeing Yuuri again today. He bit his lip in anticipation before making his way to the hotel bathroom.  

It was only after Viktor had showered did he realize that he and Yuuri never established a time. 

A swarm of anxiety swept the Russian, he didn't have Yuuri's number nor did he have any clue as to where he stayed.

Viktor gnawed on his lip, deciding he would just have to arrive early and hope for the best. 

The shop was a little farther than he realized, about 2 and a half kilometers, but it would give him the chance to be by himself; a sensation he hadn't had in too long. 

After fixing his hair and dressing in dark jeans, a thick cream cashmere sweater, white espadrilles and another two coats for the cold Viktor left the hotel room. All while trying his hardest to ignore the stirring sensation in his gut. 

 

 

 

 


	6. vi. ignore your instincts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri's smile is reverent, gentle, kind; shy in the manner he was created to be.  
> Viktor's smile is bright, overwhelming, exhausted; blindingly happy in the manner he was forced to be.
> 
> Perhaps that's why their ending is such a bitter shame.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi this took a while I'm sorry ): I've been shitty and anxiety sucks and i cried for a solid hour in the nurses office at school today because i had an anxiety attack and I wanted to go home but I knew my mom wouldn't pick me up,, 
> 
> yiKes sorry hope you enjoy,, its a lil short sorry I just wanted to post something

Death literally thought this day would never come. Literally.

He figured Minako had, somehow, found out about his 'not date' and, being the Time Manipulator, had slowed down the seconds enough to make every minute an hour and every hour a day.

However, he managed to distance himself from Viktor, knowing it wouldn't do him any good and would just add to the amount of concern he felt.

But that didn't mean the Russian didn't occupy every thought in Yuuri's head. Even while working, even while resting his mind and indulging in a novel.

Viktor was always there.

Yuuri had seen the sunrise from Kyushu, Japan before returning to Russia. At 9:40 am the sun had just barely begun to rise, the winter harshly delaying the hours of sun.  Yuuri felt his heart quicken its pace at the mere thought of Viktor, talking to him, getting to know him, helping him.

He wandered aimlessly around Sochi, moving through the swarms of society. Upon passing the bridge, Yuuri found himself fighting the scowl that wanted to rise on his lips.

He wasn't successful.

Yuuri reached into the pocket of his coat to pull out the cellular Yuuko had bought him a day prior.

Yuuri winced, still being able to hear the screeches she had emitted when learning about his lack of social media due to his lack of cellular device.

_Her eyes had widened, and she began shouting in rapid Japanese, even though every spoken language was the same dialect to him._

_Yuuko had immediately tugged on Deaths sleeve, surprising him with her mundane strength. She, quite literally, dragged him to the nearest cellular network store to add the Japanese to her plan._

_"Yuuri!" She exclaimed upon hearing words of protest. "You're in desperate need of social media! I'm doing all of us a favor. And then we can keep in contact instead of you just popping up out of nowhere! It's a little bit scary!"_

_And before he knew it Yuuko had signed the contract. She didn't even wait for a response._

_So Death sighed in defeat and allowed her to purchase him a phone._

_For all the time he'd known Yuuko, it was impossible to change her mind._

_Since she'd been 16 and infatuated with Viktor Nikiforov, just like Yuuri, he'd never stopped visiting._

_Granted, he said he lived in another country and his 'work' caused him to travel a lot._

Which wasn't exactly a lie but it was enough to get Yuuko off his back and a story to be established.

-

Yuuri's mind was filled with thoughts of everything and nothing at all. They invaded so much that he didn't even know he had arrived at the street across from the cafe until a loud, familiar voice called his name.

"...Yuuri!" He turned his head to see a cold bitten Viktor, his nose red and cheeks tinged as he stood on the other side of the crosswalk. His silver hair reflected in the delicate sunbeams, glistening wonderfully as the air combed through the strands.

He rose a hand and waved at the male whilst wearing a smile that was far from genuine, but enough to make a difference. Yuuri grinned, not even trying to fight it; he couldn't.

As soon as the light allowed it, Yuuri crossed the street along with the other dozen pedestrians to finally meet the Russian with a bashful smile.

"Hello, Viktor." The wind whipped around the pair as they spoke, which gave Death the opportunity to look at his eyes that gated the entrance to his soul.

It was the same. The same as the night on the bridge and the same as all the nights in the past 10 years.

"Hi.," Viktor said, feeling strangely timid underneath Yuuri's gaze that seemed to know Viktor wasn't okay. Even so, he forced the smile to stay on his face, for Yuuri's sake, and his own. "How are you? I-I didn't realize we never set a time so I got here as soon as I could... W-we never exchanged numbers o-or anything."

Yuuri flushed, not wanting to say he didn't even have a phone up until a couple hours ago. Instead, he nodded with an understanding gaze.

"Oh, wow. Forgive me...I guess it slipped my mind." He began with an embarrassed chuckle, but as he formed a coherent sentence to say his voice changed.

"Uh, Viktor, you know you don't have to be okay, right? I-I thought that was the point of this date, to talk about how you've been doing and to get to know each other better... I hope you know that I'm not interested in befriending you solely because of your name. That's very cruel and I don't want to give that impression... But to actually be successful, you need to be yourself and feel what you feel. That's all I am asking."

Yuuri's voice trailed toward the end, the words kept tumbling out of his mouth. His eyes widened when he replayed the sentence he'd said in his head; 'that was the point of this date,' 

'point of this date' 

'this _date_ ' 

Yuuri's face heated, especially upon seeing Viktor's look of surprise, eyes massive and lips parted in surprise. 

"I-I'm sorry, I said too much. I didn't mean to offend you I'm so-" 

"Thank you." Viktor's voice was soft, barely audible but still enough to make Yuuri shut down in an instant.

 

Viktor's eyes weren't blank; they weren't a void of nothingness, they weren't an abyss of melancholia.

Sure they held a trace of sadness and emptiness, but that always lingered. However, the relief written across his features was surprising, to say the least. 

In the absence of numbness in Viktor's slate irises, a small emotion flickered like a newly lit match. Small, almost unnoticeable, but there. The fond joy that sparked made him smile. Viktor smiled the smile he hadn't felt in too long. 

With that small gesture, that small curve of his lips as enough. It was then Yuuri knew Viktor was every single heavenly body molded into one. Viktor had stardust in his bones, just like every other human. 

But the molecules of fallen nebulae just in Viktor’s body; the warmth he manipulated with the blue in his eyes; the gods and goddesses that fell to their knees everytime he smiled, genuine or not, the stares he received simply by  _ existing _ was enough. 

Yuuri realized everything. 

The planets, moons, asteroids and everything else that rotate around a massive star in every galaxy known, every a celestial body, a monument larger than life itself; everything that occupied The Universe had failed. 

Viktor. He was the monument that stood at the center of every galaxy, every solar system. Viktor Nikiforov, The Universe. 

He was The Universe in all its grandeur, in all its beauty and size. He was everything known by anyone and anything shaped into a mere mortal. 

He is remarkable, He is intoxicating Ethereal, Timeless.

Yuuri had fallen in love at that moment, not that he even knew what love felt like. 

_ (Well, he did. But that part of him is dead.)  _

And if Death knew The Universe had already started Their plan, maybe he would've ended it then and there. 

Yuuri is Death. Death didn’t let Viktor die. Viktor will get hurt. Viktor should have died. 

He and Yuuri are not anything.  

They never would be, and Death knew that. Death knew the consequences of his actions, he knew what would happen if he grew attached to a mortal. A mortal who was supposed to die, to make matters worse.

No. Death knew. He knew how this would end. That larger part of him was screaming in his own head. 

_ No no! You idiot! Don't do it! Don't do it don't do it don't do it do. not. do. it. _

Death was aware. But Yuuri? Yuuri was too far in Viktor's eyes to even suspect something was coming. Maybe if he knew, he would've ended it as well.

 


	7. vii. promise to teach me about love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri is endlessly alive when he looks at the world. Yuuri is loud in his smiles, Yuuri is kind but irrevocably hollow; the way he must be. The way Death must be. 
> 
> Viktor is empty when he smiles. Viktor is loud in the way he speaks, aloof in the way he acts, incredibly lonely in the way he loves. Viktor is all empty smiles, hollow laughs and infinitely lonely; the way he, unintentionally, makes himself be. 
> 
> But together? Together they are loud in the way they live. Even when only existing. 
> 
> And if they’re loud in they’re loud in the way they live, imagine the volume in which they love....
> 
> Perhaps a lot can be learned from the two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it’s been a while babes !! I hope you like it (: comments really help motivate me so let me know what you think !! 
> 
> Have you’re all having a lovely day !! 
> 
> x rory <3

Yuuri never knew what love felt like. He'd always been a stranger to it; the concept of adoration, devotion, trust and every other sensation that accompanies love was something he'd never experienced.

Perhaps he should go pay Eros a visit.

Yuuri still doesn't know what love feels like. Even though Viktor's smile is breathtaking and enough to make his breath hitch, even though Yuuri's heart feels like it's about to burst from his chest; he doesn't think it could be love. 

The thought hadn't even crossed his min; Death hadn't felt anything close to these types of emotions before and its not as if Viktor Nikiforov was special. 

It was complete and utter bullshit. Yuuri knew it and so did Death. 

Viktor is real. Viktor is alive. Viktor is flawed; he is irresponsible, he is selfish, he is careless, he is lonely, he is full of lust, 

he is _human_. He has mundane hamartias and mundane fears. 

And yet, Viktor manages to make his flaws seem like strengths; he is so selfish, its ironically unselfish. He is so lonely, he will give his time to Yuri Plisetsky in hopes to stop himself from feeling. Viktor will make inpulsive decisions if he feels inclined to do so. 

Viktor Nikiforov is special in the way he makes being human look like the duty of a celestial being. 

Yuuri senses the change in Viktor's soul. He pushes all thoughts of foreign emotions out of his head to focus on Viktor.

He can't help the fond smile that rises on his lips when a visible shiver rips through Viktor's body, an aftermath of the Russian cold.

Viktor hasn't complained about being outside, but his red patched skin and trembling fingers aren't due to anxiety.

_He's so cute._

"It's super cold, Viktor, lets go inside." Yuuri says after long moments of silence, offering the taller male a quiet smile.

Slate blue eyes grow wide with an unknown emotion when Yuuri spoke his name, lips parting with a nod of his head. Yuuri makes himself look away from Viktor's lips.

"I-okay," He says with unmistakable confusion. Viktor's eyes flicker above Yuuri's head, then down to meet his gaze. He turns away with visible tension in his back and quickly gestures for Yuuri to follow as they near the shop.

"It's a little small." Viktor starts with a quiet voice as they fall into silent steps. "I found it one time when I was wandering around, it also has a used bookstore inside as well. I-I t-thinks its lovely. It's small and quaint but I-I feel like everytime I walk in....I-I'm like taken to-to Switzerland or something! It has the kind of coffee shop atmosphere that don't exist anywhere besides crappy romantic comedies! But I love it so much and-"

Somehow Viktor realizes he has begun to ramble because his mouth suddenly snaps shut and his gaze lowers to the ground with a blush coating his cheeks.  

 "Um, I-I hope you enjoy it a-as much as I do." 

Yuuri hums committedly in response, fighting the color that is threatening to tint his own cheeks at Viktor's blatant nervousness.

 _God isn't real but if he was Viktor Nikiforov would've already killed him with his cuteness._   

"I'm sure I'll love it, Viktor. Don't worry," his words are reassuring and laced with a fond tone. Yuuri finds himself fond of the silence that follows afterwards; the kind of quiet where you're both okay with the unknown that surrounds the air, whether it be an end to a conversation and the start of a new one, or the end of all things. 

Yuuri opens his mouth to speak but deflates soon afterwards. He feels himself hesitate before speaking.

"Um, I was wondering...are you comfortable with talking about yourself? I just....I want to make sure you're okay with telling me things..."

The Russian visibly flinches, talking isn't really his strong suit; at least not about himself and his emotions.

Blue eyes lower to look at the bottom of the coffee shops door; old wood, with the brown paint chipped off due to its age.

He shrugs, silver hair falling into his eyes as he raises his gaze to look at Yuuri with a smile so blinding its no wonder his facade hasn't been seen through. 

He's such a damn good actor. 

"I guess we'll find out,"'

-

Viktor was right. When he and Yuuri stepped inside, it was like he was teleported to another place in another country.

But Yuuri knew he hadn't left Sochi, he hadn't left Viktor's side.

But something about the quiet lights that hung from bookcase to bookcase and illuminated the shop, something about the warm brown colors that swarmed the space, the subtly rich scent of pumpkin pie and spiced apples could only make Yuuri feel like he'd somehow gotten himself in Amsterdam during the fall. 

He could only breath out a gasp, a breathy sound.

"Wow." 

Yuuri had always appreciated humans thirst for knowledge, their need of knowing everything.

He especially appreciated those who indulged in novels. They wanted to know everything, therefore burying themselves in books and novels.

Viktor was one of those. Even though his training regimen hardly allowed free time, the Russian usually spent his evenings with a book in his hand.

So to see Viktor's eyes light up at the sight of bookshelf after bookshelf of novels and literature alike, it makes Yuuri's heart swell in his chest.

"Oh Vitya!" A sudden small voice suddenly speaks, the pair turn to see an elderly woman behind the check out counter, fragile smile and fond gaze blatant as she stares at Viktor. "Доброе утро. Я не ожидал вас! это было время, любимая. Как поживаете?" (Good morning. I wasn't expecting you! It's been a while, darling, how are you?)

A smile settles on Viktors face at the sight of the woman, features softening considerably.

"Good morning, Beba, I'm sorry for not keeping in touch. It's been a long couple of months. But I'm okay....busy with training."

Yuuri watches with a small frown as he has to listen to Viktor lie through his teeth.

Hearing him speak his mother tongue is foreign. His tongue curls in odd ways, and the way his voice emphasized certain syllables and pronunciations was interesting.

But all languages are the same for him. Therefore, Yuuri couldn't exactly appreciate the foreignness of the language as much as others. 

The elder woman hums in approval, her eyes flick over to settle on Yuuri before she looks at Viktor again.

"And who's this Vitya? Boyfriend?" Yuuri tries his hardest to ignore the sudden flush on Viktors cheeks.

"Beba! No! He-he's just a friend!" Viktor stammers through flustered lips on his flustered face. He looks over at Yuuri and offers him a soft smile that looks apologetic.

So Viktor thinks Yuuri doesn't understand Russian. Maybe if he knew, he wouldn't have continued his conversation.

Beba looks at him with a knowing look, eyes teasing and lips curled in a smug smile.

"Vitya, you like him. Else you wouldn't have brought him here. You know that." Yuuri pretends not to understand, smiling to himself at the loud shriek he emits. Instead, Yuuri distracts himself by looking around the shop.

He runs his fingers along the spines of books placed on the shelves, eyes skimming the titles. The titles are mainly in Cyrillic, a few in English He pretends not to understand Viktor’s conversation, lingering to hear what they speak of. But after a moment he decides that it is none of his business and wanders deeper into the shop.

Yuuri's eyes light up as his fingers dip into the spine of 'Anna Karenina' by ' Leo Tolstoy'. He's been meaning to begin that one, Yuuri just finished 'The Death of Ivan Ilych'

He hears footsteps hearing him, turning his head to see Viktor approaching with a bashful grin on his features.

Gods, he's too pretty.

"S-sorry Yuuri. B-Beba and I were j-just ca-catching up. I-I don't visit often." Viktor's voice is soft, a hint of shame laced in his tone.

Still, Yuuri smiles with a reassuring nod, "it's okay, I don't mind. You said so yourself that you don't visit often...." Yuuri turns back to 'Anna Karenina', he feels Viktor's gaze on him, soul seeming nostalgic for some reason.

"Viktor, how have you really been? I don't want you to feel pressured into telling me but I'm here for this exact reason and I'm not going anywhere....I-I promise."

Death shouldn't make promises. He doesn't make promises because promises are not meant to last and Death knows that.

Queen Cleopatra of Egypt promised Marc Antony they would be together forever, Alexander the Great promised not to invade the Ottoman Empire, Vincent Van Gogh promised his brother that he wouldn't try to take his own life, Leonardo Da Vinci promised to remember. Yuuri promised to stay.

Viktor seemed to feel the same, his eyes glaze with anger, disappointment, nostalgia, regret and sadness.

"Please don't say that. I've heard it too much and i can't stand being lied to again. Especially by you."

Especially by you.


	8. viii. don't touch me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yuuri is sincere and Viktor cannot trust. 
> 
> Yuuri is sure that Viktor is not human.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: RAPE/NONCON 
> 
> NON DESCRIPTIVE BUT STILL THERE. I MARKED WHERE IT BEgINS AND ENDS SO IF YOU WANNA SKIP IT JUST FOLLOW THE MARKS. 
> 
> IM SORRY ILL PUT IT IN THE TAGS CAUSE ITS THE SECOND OCCURENCE. 
> 
> ://// hope you enjoy 
> 
> comments really help me !! I’m an attention grabber sorry
> 
> x rory

Yuuri wants to believe that Viktor isn't broken. He wants to believe that Viktor can be okay, that he will be okay.

But when Viktor croaks out "especially from you.", Yuuri cannot help but look into his eyes, the blue in his irises suddenly vanishing; Viktor let him in. Not too much, but enough.

Death sees everything in an instant, everything he didn't see before; he sees Viktor as a teenager as he brings scissors to his shoulders and slips it underneath his hair, eyes squeezed shut and a sob escaping his lips when he hears the deafening snip. Death sees Viktor's long strands of silver hair falling from his beautiful shoulders and fluttering to land on the tile floor of his bathroom; he sees Viktor with bloodshot eyes every morning, an aftermath of night terrors Death cannot see; he sees Viktor as he sins with too many men and women to count and the tears he bites back when he lays with men because it hurts but he's scared to say ' _stop_ ';

and then

he sees Viktor crying in a different manner

**\- tw**

  
He sees in a place he should never be, he sees Viktor suppressing his sobs and cries for help as the man slaps his own dirty hand over Viktor's mouth, snarling in gruff Russian as he slams him against the concrete wall to _"keep quiet, else I'll slit your pretty little throat,"_ he sees Viktor fighting back, but the mans grip on his frail wrists is iron like and it hurts to move, especially because of the way the man is _splitting him apart_ from the inside. And then Viktor finally falls limp in the mans arms, losing his fight as tears slip out of his hazy vision and he thinks to himself _'I should've just stayed home,'_

Death forces himself to listen to the whimpers of pain and weak muffled cries of "please, stop" Viktor lets out. And he makes himself listen to the mans dirty words and pet names that are said. 

**\- end tw**

  
But all the while he cannot help feeling anger engulf him, invade him until every pore in his body is full of unmistakable rage. But the heartbreak that swarms Death is too much at once, it's too raw, its too vivid;

it's not human.

Yuuri realizes this when he feel tears in his eyes; when Viktor stares at him with a panicked gaze.

"Y-Yuuri! I-I- W-What's wrong? I-I'm s-sorry, 'm no-not good with p-people crying? I-I don't- I don't know w-what to do."

Death has seen souls with irreproachable, scarring damage and still has not blinked an eye.

No human is capable of bringing Death to tears.

Yuuri finds himself startled when he mumbles out:

"V-Viktor...please...let me help you, that's all I want to do. Please."

Viktor's rose colored lips part in shock, blue eyes wide and confused. He stares at Yuuri with an emotion he himself can not comprehend.

In the hollow hours of the night, Viktor was forced to live alone. When Makkachin passed, Viktor understood then what a fool he was to abandon her.

He wasn't there when Makkachin died. She died alone; she died without her Dad.

Perhaps that was what was still clawing at his skin.

Makkachin was everything to him. She was everything. And it seems foolish to still dream of her, but he can't forget her even if he tried. Makka was there to lick his tears and give him a reason to get out of bed because she needed to be fed, or walked.

Viktor had been alone for too many years. In a way he still is alone.

But Yuuri is new. Yuuri isn't predictable, he's intriguing, he's weird, for God's sake.

Yuuri's weird and he gives Viktor the aura that says that he can love, and he can be loved.

So Viktor doesn't try to be okay; he doesn't pretend. He lets the mask fall,

And for the first time he doesn't worry about when he will have to pick it up.

-

Coffee is bitter. At least that's what Yuuri heard. But then again nothing Yuuri eats really has a taste. It tastes like....stale. Maybe that's the right word.

Yuuri doesn't need to eat, he doesn't need a heart or a brain, or sleep, or take a sick day.

Death wasn't equipped with taste buds, or emotions, or relevant organs.

It's been a while since he's eaten anything.

But being with Viktor reminds him that he has to eat something, even if it's a piece of bread.

"What would you like Yuuri? My treat." The Russian says beside him, lips not trying to form a smile he knows Yuuri will know is fake.

Yuuri just orders a hot chocolate and a croissant, because, yeah he doesn't know what it tastes like, but he's heard of the way humans crave chocolate on a regular basis and cannot help the wave of curiosity.

He knows it will taste the same as everything else.

Yuuri mumbles out a shy 'thank you, Viktor.' as the pair retreat to the sitting area, drinks and food in hand.

Yuuri averts Viktor's gaze, still incredibly flustered with his own actions just minutes prior.

Yuuri was crying. He's not supposed to cry.

_ Fuck I'm so embarrassing. _

It's only when Viktor sits across from Yuuri, and stares at him for brief moments, does the Russian finally break the silence.

"Um..... I-I'm really glad w-we met that night." Viktor says, knowing damn well he's lying. Of course he's not.

Of course Viktor isn't glad that Yuuri convinced him not to jump, that Yuuri is the reason he is still so empty.

But he obviously won't tell Yuuri that.

And trust our Yuuri to know that Viktor is lying.

"I know you're not at all glad, Viktor." He suddenly says with a certain hardness in his voice, his head is lowered, fingers wrapped round the warm cup as he stares down at the liquid. Viktor freezes, hands stilling as he stares at Yuuri with shock. He waits for Yuuri to continue.

"Why would you be? I am the reason you are unhappy. I am the reason you are here and not dead. I get it."

Viktor doesn't speak for a couple seconds. All attempts to form coherent words are futile as he racks his brain to say something, anything.

But instead he just sits there with a worn expression on his face.

"I'm sorry, Viktor." Yuuri suddenly says, his voice is unexpectedly soft, reverent, almost scared. Viktor feels his own breath hitch at the sudden apology.

"I really am sorry. I'm sorry you don't want to live, but I want to help you....I know I keep on saying that, and I know we’ve only just met but you have so much inside you, and you've kept it all in. And it's heartbreaking to watch, especially because you give so much, and get so little in return....please, let me help. The only thing I am asking in return is to be honest, I promise."

Viktor tells Yuuri not to make promises Viktor knows he won't keep, but the hint of sincerity that glimmers in his mocha irises seem to scream his intentions.

In the dim light of the coffee shop, with the rising sun barely peeking through the windows, Yuuri manages to manipulate the sun and place its beams in his eyes. The shimmering ocean of brown entrances Viktor with a stare so piercing it seems as if Yuuri is staring into his very spirit. Yuuri stares at Viktor like he is the one who holds the secret of the universe, like he is the one who had the flames of life licking his insides and scorching his mind, a flame Viktor was so desperate to put out.  
  
"I-I.....okay." He finally says with a tired sigh, not daring to break eye contact with the Japanese male. Even though Yuuri's eyes are breathtakingly warm and his gaze seems to be beating him from the inside out Viktor can't bear to look away for even a second.

Yuuri lets a smile grace his pink lips, Viktor feeling his face warm at the fond gaze Yuuri’s eyes hold while smiling at him.

“Thank you.”

Viktor forgot the last time he actually felt what he said he was feeling.

While Viktor forgets, Yuuri remembers that Viktor made him cry. And his eyes grow as he realizes that it all ties back into a single fact: 

Viktor Nikiforov is not human. 


	9. ix. kiss me i'm burnin' up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which feelings bloom and kisses happen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi I’m updating a lot ! I’m in love with this story. I really like this chapter and I hope you do too! ‘T’was v fun to write. 
> 
> Comment, leave kudos, all that Jazz (: 
> 
> xx rory

Viktor seems to unwind as the day goes on, his shoulders arent as tense and his posture doesn't look stiff as they talk. He asks Yuuri about himself, which is something he hadn't expected.

It was also a bit infuriating because he has no idea what to say his favorite memory is or what his favorite ice cream flavor is, so whenever Viktor asks him a question Yuuri says the first thing that comes to mind.

"I-I'm not sure," Yuuri stammers as he wracks his brain for a random ice cream flavor. "I-I like Cookies and Cream,"

It's not a total lie, Yuuri does like the concept of it. It's not his fault he doesn't need to eat.

But as the hours tick by, Yuuri learns things about Viktor that are humbling, sincere, childish and irrevocably Viktor.

 _Viktor_ , not _Viktor Nikiforov_.

He learns that Viktor is fluent in 5 languages; French, Spanish, English, Russian, and Italian, but he prefers French and Spanish because of the way the words roll off his tongue. While Viktor's favorite color is expected to be silver or blue, his favorite is actually vermillion. Up until he was 13, he grew up wanting to become a neurosurgeon. Viktors ticklish in his sides and underneath his armpits. He hates the cold, even though he's Russian. He learns that Viktor doesn't trust easily, and it takes a long time to open up to people.

Yuuri cannot stop himself from frowning. His tactic is to ask easy questions at first, ones that have simple answers and give enough information for Yuuri to know what topics to stray from and others that Viktor is comfortable speaking about.

"Viktor, can I ask you something else?" Yuuri pipes gently after Viktor reveals that he can't remember the last time he went to the movie theatres, 'figure skating' he simply says. "You are not obligated to answer, but if you are comfortable with telling me, I-I'm wondering why you're still skating, i-if its obviously killing you, if you obviously don't love it anymore."

Silence hangs in the air for long moments, Viktor's gaze falling to his hands. After several minutes, Yuuri inches closer to the Russian, moving so their elbows touch and knees almost touch.

"Viktor? Remember what I said. All you have to is say no, and I'll back off." The Japanese reminds, soft tone echoing in Viktor's ears. Viktor sniffles quietly, bottom lip quivering as he opens his mouth to speak.

"...I'm-I'm g-good at it." He finally says, wincing at his own hoarse voice. Viktor finally looks at Yuuri, azure eyes glimmering with tears as he continues. "It's the o-only thing i know im g-good at. A-and I'm scared, Yuuri... I-I'm scared that, that I-I wont be anything without i-it and I-I w-won't know what to do because I have nothing else-" Viktor cuts himself off sob he muffles with his hand. Yuuri forces himself to look at Viktor as he tries to contain himself, even though the look in his eyes is heartbreaking and there isn't a damn thing in the world Yuuri wouldn't do to see Viktor feeling anything but this.

"Viktor.." Yuuri whispers, bringing the Russian in his arms. The silverette responds quickly, moving in to take advantage of their close proximity. He wraps his arms round Yuuri's torso and hides his face in Yuuri's coat as he continues to sob quietly.

Yuuri wanted to shield Viktor from the world, take care of him, protect him, love him. He deserves the godamn Universe and Yuuri can't even bring himself to care that The Universe is always there and They are always watching Death.

Viktor deserves more than what he has. Viktor is more important than anything else, than any other soul.

After he manages to contain his tears, Viktor takes a shuddering breath and looks up to meet Yuuri's gaze.

"T-there are days w-when having n-nothing is better than t-this. A-and I'm s-so tired, Yuuri. I'm so t-tired of pr-pretending."

Yuuri cant help the way his breath hitches at the way Viktor says his name, tongue lightly rolling the r's in his name. Yuuri also can't stop himself from wiping away Viktor's tears with the pad of his thumb. He brushes away Viktor's bangs, tucking them behind his ear while marveling at the softness of his hair.

It's then that Viktor realizes where he is. Blue eyes widen before he clambers off of Yuuri, apologizing profusely while trying to manage his heart rate.

"I hugged you a reason." Yuuri says with a light chuckle. "I did it because it looked like you needed one.... I think you need to learn that people only know what you tell them, Viktor. If you tell people that you're okay, but you're really not, you're the one who gets affected the most. People can only help so much, you also have to reach out and help yourself."

The Russian finds himself nodding, wiping away any stray tears. Viktor smiles weakly, and almost feels like he means it.

"I'm proud of you, Viktor." Yuuri says with a fond smile, watching as Viktor's eyes begin to widen with a new emotion.

And this time, Viktor means the smile that he offers Yuuri.

-

They leave the cafe not long afterwards. Even though its only 4 in the afternoon and the pair learned a lot about each other, Yuuri feels hesitant to leave Viktor alone, and he says this.

Viktor finds himself blushing as he says "W-well, I-I have a room not too f-far away. I-if you w-want to, you c-can stay?"

Yuuri finds himself smiling, nodding his head in agreement. Neither of them wanted to leave.

"Wow!" Yuuri realizes as the pair begin to walk to Viktor's hotel. "The suns already setting! It's only 4!" His eyes are wide and Viktor cannot help but find Yuuri breathtaking at that moment. With the post snow glow highlighting Yuuri's features, his eyelashes are smushed against Yuuri's glasses as he marvels at the setting sun. His brown eyes are shining as his breaths come out in puffs of warm air. A rose colored flush is spread over his cheeks, the tip of his nose and tips of his ears.

In that moment, Viktor cannot say Yuuri doesn't look absolutely adorable. His glasses begin to fog up due to the temperatures.

Yuuri pushes out an annoyed huff as he stops to take off his glasses with a pout on his chapped lips.

 _Blyad, this boy is so soft. He's too soft_.

"You okay?" Viktor asks in an amused tone. Yuuri nods and mumbles out a soft "sorry," as he finishes cleaning them off. 

Viktor has to stifle a giggle as Yuuri puts his glasses back on only for them to immediately fog up again.

Yuuri lets out a frustrated groan, "I can't see without my glasses, but right now I can't see with my glasses!"

Viktor clears his throat to hide his embarrassment as he brushes his hand by Yuuri's own for him to lace their fingers together.

"If you want, I can be your eyes." He says with a blush coating his cheeks. After a moment, Viktor feels Yuuri's fingers brush against his before fitting his own digits into the spaces between Viktor's.

The rest of the walk is silent; the good kind of silence. Yuuri's skin is freezing, Viktor realizes as they continue holding hands.

Viktor tries to ignore the churning sensation in his stomach the whole way there.

When they make it to the hotel, Viktor leads the pair to the elevator, nodding at the woman behind the front desk. Viktor is eager to change into comfy clothes.

And he realizes Yuuri has none on him.

The Russian clears his throat again to get Yuuri's attention, brown eyes are on him in an instant. Viktor's skin warms unintentionally, feeling flattered by how quickly Yuuri drops everything.

"Um, I was, erm wondering if you wanted to borrow some clothes...yknow since y-you don't have anything else t-to change into. O-only if you want to of course!" Viktor says, fumbling for words as he sees a smile spread across Yuuri's face.

He squints at Viktor, managing to look more Asian as he tries to see Viktor.

"Thank you, that would be lovely Viktor."

Viktor doesn't try to ignore the way a shiver runs down his spine, the way Yuuri said his name seemed more like a purr. Instead, he sputters out a "you're welcome," and unlocks the door to his room.

The room is pretty nice, considering the area it's located in. Viktor sheds his coat and shoes and drapes them over the couch, encouraging Yuuri to do the same.

"Make yourself at home...I'll go get you something to change into."

Viktor's grateful he’s not a light traveler, he’s brought more clothes than he needs. But that’s good, considering he's going to stay an extra week.

  
He changes first before he retrieves a pair of boxers, sweatpants and a black T-shirt from his suitcase and returns to the sitting room to give them to Yuuri.

"S-sorry about the boxers..." Viktor says in a quiet voice, red tinting his cheeks. "I-I hope y-you don't mind. I-if it, erm, bothers you, I w-won't be offended. I-I'll understand."

Yuuri says he doesn't mind. His gaze is piercing and a smug smile appears on his lips when Viktor flushes even more, if that was even possible.

After telling him where the bedroom is, Viktor announces that he's going to order room service, asking Yuuri what he would like.

"Whatever's fine. Surprise me." Yuuri says before retreating into the bedroom.

Viktor orders the food while Yuuri is changing. And suddenly while he's on the phone with the woman at the front desk, he finds himself imagining Yuuri stripping off his clothes, revealing his chest and lovely stomach, and the image of the boxers hugging his thighs and ass in all the right places has Viktor biting his lip. And before he can stop himself, Yuuri is on his knees in front of Viktor, begging to have him. His mouth is heavenly against his sex, lips red be stretched around Viktor's length. It doesn't take long for him to finish, and Yuuri rides out his orgasm until Viktor is whining and whimpering from the oversensitivity.

The woman has to ask if Viktor is still there several times before Viktor snaps out of it. He continues his order before hanging up and running his hands through his hair.

He realizes he's hard.

"Damn it Vitya, get ahold of yourself." He groans.

At that moment Yuuri emerges from the bedroom wearing Viktor's clothes. They're loose and baggy on his petite frame, Viktor's shirt large enough to reveal his prominent collarbones. 

Viktor bites his lower lip at the sight.

Yuuri really isn't helping Viktor's, uh, _problem_.

"Who's Vitya?"

Viktor chokes at the way he says his diminutive name. His tongue curls around the y, somehow managing to sound like he's purring again.

"T-that's me. V-Vitya is the diminutive form of Viktor." He says.

"Oh," Yuuri replies. He's quiet for a couple seconds before he speaks again. "I like that, can I call you Vitya? Or can Russians only say it?"

The curiosity and innocence in Yuuri's eyes is adorable. Viktor can't help but blush lightly.

"Yeah, y-you can call me that, if you like."

A wide smile spreads across Yuuri’s face, he nods and turns around to head into the living room where he sits on the medium sized couch.

Viktor was right. Yuuri’s ass looks heavenly in the sweatpants.

_ Oh god, I can only imagine what it looks like in his boxers. _

At this point, Viktor’s straining in his pants.

_ Fuck, really asshole? _

There’s a knock on the door at that moment, Viktor suspecting it’s room service.

His feet pad towards the door as he goes to answer it.

Viktor thanks the server and hands him a 500 ruble bill as a tip.

“I got cookies and cream ice cream for you, Yuuri. And I also ordered a chicken salad for myself and grilled chicken for you. I didn’t know what you like so I just guessed. Sorry if that’s not your thing.”

Viktor is sweet. He’s so cute it physically pains Yuuri.

“Thank you very much, Vitya. Im sure it’s delicious so don’t you worry your pretty little head.”

Yuuri calling Viktor pretty is the last straw. He quickly puts the food down before he crosses over to Yuuri.  
  
His face is flushed pink as he brings a hand up to cup Yuuri’s cheek. Their noses brush against each other’s, faces so close that they could feel their breaths mingling together.

The Japanese’s pretty brown eyes widen at the sudden proximity. His own face begins to grow a lovely shade of pink.

“Yuuri, c-can I kiss you right now?” Viktor’s barely able to hold himself but he would hate for Yuuri to force himself just to appease Viktor.

The Russians eyes drop down to Yuuri’s pretty lips, up to his eyes and then down to his mouth once more.

Yuuri responds by leaning in and closing the space between them, igniting a flame inside both of them that they never knew they had inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was super duper important cause you got to see the side of Viktor that is terrified of retirement and you also see the side of him that’s pining after Yuuri and how desperate he is for love. 
> 
> It’s also important because you see Yuuri start to develop these feelings he doesn’t understand yet. 
> 
> And it’s obvs important because !! they !! finally !! kiss !! 
> 
> Ugh I love this chapter. 
> 
> I’ll see you at the next one loves (: take care.


	10. x. cannot say goodbye without remembering the hello

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sexual acts do not condone sexual abuse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I changed the titles of the chapters !! this chapter is a little rollercoaster oops I hope you like it. 
> 
> Also steam but sad at the end.

Viktor has never been more aware of his heartbeat. Kissing Yuuri made Viktor feel like he was about to implode. His thoughts came to a screeching halt, his blood froze in the best way possible, his nerves burned with the scorching heat of Yuuri's presence.

Viktor's lips slid across Yuuri's in a manner that was sweet and gentle but also a bit forlorn. Viktor had never kissed anyone this way; careful, hesitant but still dizzying.

(Usually, whenever he kissed someone it was rushed, messy and led to sex.)

This? This was _lovely_. 

It was obvious Yuuri didn't have much experience, his movements were hesitant, hands unsure where to rest on Viktor's body.

Viktor did it for him, lacing their fingers together and sliding them up to tangle in his own hair. He let go of Yuuri's hands afterwards, allowing the Japanese to tug on the roots in an attempt to bring Viktor closer.

(Fuck Viktor _loved_ having his hair pulled.) Even if they weren't kissing roughly, or doing anything roughly.

Even though it wasn't leading anywhere.

Viktor pulled away after some time, slightly out of breath as he raised his gaze to look at Yuuri.

Their foreheads were still pressed together, pink dusting their cheeks as they stared at each other. 

Yuuri spoke first, voice soft and angelic.

"Sorry, I-I didn't- forgive me, Viktor, I-I don't know why-"

"Yuuri?" Viktor interrupted, finding a confidence he didn't know he had in him. "Every moment you are speaking is a moment you are not kissing me and that is a crime I believe should be fixed. Don't you think, лапочка?" 

Yuuri's lips twitched up in a bashful smile and again, Viktor's heart did that motion again, the one he hadn't experienced much before.

 -

Sleeping on the couch with Yuuri was really a spur of the moment.

After he and Yuuri had stopped making out long enough to eat, they both sat down to watch some crappy Russian soap operas (really an excuse to try making out some more)

It was around 9 when Viktor retreated to his bedroom.

"Viktor, don't worry. It's been a long day, I understand." Yuuri had said after Viktor apologized profusely for his early bed time.

He had them bid Viktor a good night's rest and that he would see him tomorrow morning.

So an hour later, when Viktor hadn't managed to shut his fucking eyes, he got up to go sleep with Yuuri.

(Because he wanted to. Because he, _hopefully_ , could.)

Of course Yuuri let Viktor sleep with him. Even though the couch wasn't massive, it somehow managed to fit the two of them.

It was a given that they would make out for a bit, and when Yuuri pulled away, he looked at Viktor with a gaze that was intoxicating.

It seemed as if his heart abruptly stopped, and the combination of Yuuri's flushed cheeks and his warm chocolate eyes looking up at Viktor through thick lashes that framed Yuuri's eyes so wonderfully was the Kickstarter that got him breathing again.

"V-Viktor, I've n-never done t-this b-before." Yuuri admitted after pulling away from a rather heated make out session. Meanwhile surprising Viktor with the stutter that wormed its way into his speech- (and _fuck_ he was still blushing and the innocent look in his eyes was enough to make Viktor's breath hitch.)

How Yuuri was still a virgin? Viktor had no idea.

But still the Russian hummed, gentle fingers reaching up to stroke Yuuri's cheek. The skin underneath his fingers was cold as he spoke.

"It's okay милый, it's been a long time for me as well." He admitted, voice sultry and sensual as he stared into Yuuri's eyes. They were dangerously wide and swirling with unknown adventures. Viktor wanted to kiss him again.

Viktor wanted him.

_(Viktor always got what he wanted.)_

After kissing Viktor the second time, Yuuri felt a sensation swell inside of him. His lips tingled and burned with the unmistakable reminder that Viktor had kissed him, that Viktor still wanted to keep kissing him.

After a while, it became as natural as breathing.

And the thing with breathing is that, sure you need it to survive, but breathing isn't the same as _living_ , is it? 

Yuuri wanted more. (He didn't know what he wanted specifically, but the knowledge of this isn't enough was what spurred him on.)

He thought the angle of their kisses was a bit awkward, so to him it made sense to shift closer and maybe try to take a bit of control.

To Yuuri it made sense to crawl on Viktor's lap and move his hips (while on Viktor's groin) to straddle the Russian.

Viktor let out a moan he didn't want to hear.

Yuuri froze in place.

' _t-that is the sound he makes when h-he's having....._ ' Yuuri realized, mind blanking. ' _Did I do that? I-I don't know what I did....wait._ ' 

Viktor was trying to look anywhere else, feeling mortified that he moaned when Yuuri crawled on his lap and accidentally grinded on him.

He was ready to jump off a building (and **not** in the fun way)  

And he felt it again. He felt Yuuri's hips shifting until he was pressed again Viktor's thigh and began to grind in slow gyrating circles.

Viktor felt his breath hitch, a small whimper escaping his lips as Yuuri did it again, and again. His mind blanked suddenly and the only coherent thought in his head: 

_'God I'm going to die (and again, **not** in the fun way).'_

If the noises Viktor made were anything to go by, Yuuri was doing a good job in pleasuring him.

He leant down to kiss the Russian again, his hands slid up to Viktor's hair, where he tugged once more. Most of the time, he rubbed against Viktor's groin and his lap. Every time he pleasured Viktor, he got the honor of hearing Viktor moan Yuuri's name.

It was then when Yuuri became painfully aware of two things: Yuuri's own...male anatomy was hurting, and he felt something hard in Viktor's lap against his- _oh._

Arousal. That's what it was.

Viktor was aroused. ' _Oh god he's horny because of me, what do I do?_ '

"Y-you're doing good Yuuri...Yuuri, Yuuri, wai-ah!" Yuuri had spoken aloud, because of course he had. "J-just k-keep doing what you're doing baby." Viktor moaned out after several moments, eyes squeezed shut as he pulled away for a moment.

_(If Yuuri has said that Viktor calling him 'baby' didn't affect him whatsoever, he's a fucking liar.)_

Yuuri nodded, feeling his breath hitch as pleasure coursed through him in waves. Small whimpers escaped his parted lips as he tugged harder on Viktor's hair, his boxers began to feel sticky inside, the feeling would be uncomfortable if he wasn't feeling so fucking euphoric right now.

"You're doing so amazing, baby. You look so beautiful riding my thigh." The Russians hand slid up to pull Yuuri toward him deliciously in an attempt to guide him on his road towards nirvana.

Yuuri ground down particularly hard, watching as Viktor's face contorted in pleasure. His head was thrown back, hands gripping the fabric of Yuuri's- Viktor's - shirt.

Yuuri leaned down, his face hiding in the crook of Viktor's neck as he continued his movements.

He let out embarrasing whines in Viktor's skin, tongue darting out unconsciously to lap at the Russian's skin, to taste.

"Yuuri, w-wa-oh!" Viktor gasped, back arching to meet Yuuri's groin and press their hips together.

"Viktor, feels s-so g-good," he cried, gasping as he felt the dampness in his boxers meet the ones that Viktor wore.

"Vik-Vitya!"

And Viktor let himself go.

"yuuriyuuriyuuri, fuck!" he chanted the Japanese mans name like a mantra as he let himself go, spilling inside his jeans like a fucking teenager.

As Viktor came down from his high, Yuuri continued his movements above him, speeding up to finish like Viktor did.

"V-Vitya, ngh," Yuuri whined in the mans neck, watching as a shudder spread through the Russian's body. "m-my st-stomach feels- oh! Feels, f-"

"I know baby boy, I know. You're almost here." Viktor assured in a hushed voice that was clearly spent. "Cmon baby, let yourself go. Come for me." 

Yuuri had no idea what Viktor meant by 'come for me' but he needed to finish and he needed Viktor to touch him in order to finish. 

"Vi-Vitya!" Yuuri sobbed, trying his hardest to kiss Viktor's neck but instead all he did was pant into the skin there "I-I need-nngh, Vitya touch me please!" 

Viktor came in his pants for the second time. 

God Yuuri's voice and the way he said Viktor's name. How could he **not**?

Viktor whined and whimpered and groaned but eventually his fingers dipped into Yuuri's boxers, his palm pinched at the meat of Yuuri's ass, earning a gasp of surprise and a moan of approval.

"L-let it go, Yuuri." Viktor commanded as his fingers finally closed around Yuuri's sex, stroking thoroughly. "You'll feel so good, angel. I-I promise. Come for me darling." 

His thumb ran over the slit as he spoke into Yuuri's ear with a low voice and Yuuri lost it. 

He came with a gasp and a cry of Viktor's name, coating Viktor's hand with come. 

He felt the world spin, feelings blissed out and strangely fuzzy as he slumped against Viktor's body.

(Yuuri had cum in Viktor's hand, how could he **not** taste it?) 

Yuuri almost did whatever he had done again when he saw Viktor's tongue lapping at his fingers that were coated in something sort of white. 

"V-Vitya?" He mumbled against Viktor's neck, feeling tired and alarmed because he was feeling tired. "Vitya 'm sleepy." Yuuri husked. 

"I know, darling. Let's just clean you up," he finally said, voice strained, hurt and almost, ruined.

Yuuri blinked, sleep gone in an instant as he sat up to look at Viktor. His blue eyes were glassy, lips trembling as he distantly stared at the wall in front of them. 

"Vitya-Viktor look at me." Yuuri said in a stern manner, hands coming up to cradle Viktor's face.

The Russian blinked, suddenly conscious of Yuuri's presence as his lower lip trembled. It was the same face he had when he was 17, when he dissociated for days at a time and Yakov had knocked the door down to check if Viktor was still _alive_. 

"Viktor, d-did I do something? I-I'm so sorry if I did-"

All of a sudden Yuuri stopped, eyes widening as a painful thought entered his mind with the intent to destroy the mere idea of Yuuri himself.

_'Did I force Viktor?'_

**"Yuuri, w-wa-oh!"**

_Yuuri_ wait.

**"Y-you're doing good Yuuri...Yuuri, Yuuri, wai-ah!"**

_Yuuri_ wait.

_Yuuri,_ please stop. __

_Stop it! Don't do this Death, please!_

_Death, stop!_

_A-Apollymi, Death! Please don't hurt me!_

**Apollymi!**


	11. xi. praying that you and me might end up together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor had to learn by himself. Yuuri is fighting by himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS: MENTIONS OF RAPE/NON-CON, THE AFTERMATH OF SAID RAPE/NON-COM, NAME CALLING, SELF-HARM, DISSOCIATION, 
> 
> I'll put marks if you are not comfortable, nothing is in detail however the triggers are still very important. sorry loves.  
> also thoughts are italicized and underlinded. 
> 
> ALSO, Apollymi roughly translates to "destroyer"

They don't ever tell you how much it hurts.

Viktor knows that from the amount of therapy Yakov made him get afterwards.

In therapy was where he realized that don't tell you how much it hurts when you're forced.

In reality, they only explain how, yeah you don't want anyone to touch you for the next _twenty years or so_ , and how your body still feels filthy even though the doctor gave you a lotion that would, hopefully, repair your broken skin and get rid of all the scars and angry lines your half bitten nails had raked down your skin to get rid of the grime you know is _still there_.

They never told Viktor about the physical pain. _But all that emotional shit?_

Been there, done that.

Viktor had to figure out the physical portion for himself.

**-tw-**

He had to find out for himself that his back exploded every time he moved for the week or so; and that the mere _thought_ of masturbation for the next _three fucking years_ will make bile crawl up his throat and that his tongue will _always_ remember the bitter taste that mans.....semen left in Viktor's mouth.

Viktor cut his hair 47 and a half hours later. The tears are nonstop at this point and _godamn_ he loves his hair and he  _really_ doesn't want to do this but it's disgusting to think about that man's fingers yanking on his hair, even though that is such a kink for him.

' _Not anymore._ '

He lets the silver locks fall to his feet because maybe if it had been short that night then the man wouldn't have mistaken Viktor for a woman and said with a throaty laugh upon realizing he has a dick:

'wow, guess I get a fuck a twink who has the sexuality of a slut bitch.'

_(which didn't really make sense, it still doesn't)_

Viktor learned about the discharge and had to cry by himself when he bled through the sheets a few days afterwards

and even though the doctor told him it was going to happen it seemed like a fucking punch in the face realizing that Viktor didn't exaggerate when he said that he was _torn apart._

Viktor also forced himself to cry when he made himself relive the pain again, when he dissociated and dragged the knife over his skin, when he lit a match and pressed the flame onto his porcelain skin, when he realized the blood that stained his sheets is the same blood that bled from his wrists, and thighs, and stomach. Viktor to learn that he became his own voodoo doll.

Yakov sent him to an institution when he found out, then pulled him out after 3 weeks because **'the season is starting again, Vitya. I cannot play the game anymore.'**

But was it ever a game? Did Viktor plot out his movements like a fucking _board game_? Did he _pay_ that man to ra-...touch him so he could _play a fucking round of Monopoly_?

It may seem harsh but in hindsight, Yakov is a big reason Viktor feels he cannot breathe too much of the time.

Viktor had to learn that it would be years before he even thinks about sleeping with someone.

He hasn't had sex with anyone since he was 21.

He can't pass by the nightclub  _Cachet Blanc_  in Nice, France. He cannot and he will not.

He cannot drink in a club where _David Bowie_ is playing. He leaves immediately.

He hates grey eyes.

He can't say the 'r' word without feeling lightheaded.

And because of a four letter word, because of grey eyes, David Bowie and everything the reminds him of anything about that night; sex is a concept that is taboo to him, in many ways.

So perhaps that's why Yuuri's fingers, his lovely sounds and the way he whimpered Viktor's name left him buzzing.

Viktor is vaguely aware that Yuuri is panicking, he can hear Yuuri's voice distantly asking him what's wrong, apologizing, pleading for Viktor to look at him, crying. Yuuri's hands are coming up to rest on Viktor's cheeks, tears spilling down his eyes and dripping onto Viktor's lap.

"I-I'm so sorry, Vitya. So so so sorry." He hears Yuuri sob, biting his lip as he stares at Viktor's eyes that are too distant to admire. "Viktor! Look at me! I-I don't k-know what to do. Please!" Yuuri hiccups through his words, Viktor realizes that Yuuri is crying.

Viktor so desperately wants to reach out and wipe Yuuri's tears away from his pretty face because he can't cry over Viktor. Viktor, who is worth nothing if not the chains _every single medal_ has given him, and, of course, the colors _gold and silver._

 _Only_ gold for medals; and _only_ silver for himself.

Viktor so desperately wants to help Yuuri but his throat is clamped, his eyes are lifeless and it hurts to even _exist_ , let alone speak.

Yuuri is silent suddenly. His eyes turn into a blank brown abyss, and Viktor hears shuffling, voices that are close but Viktor cannot bring himself to listen to what is being said.

And then his room is silent.

He's never liked the silence, silence is loud, silence is telling;

_silence is what compelled Viktor to go out the night he was a twink and fucked against his will._

Air is overrated and a blade on his wrist had never seemed so lovely at that moment.

**-tw-**

-

Viktor blinked a short time afterwards, who knows if it was a short time? Maybe it was a couple hours, or a couple days?

He wasn't on the couch.

Yuuri had moved him to the bed; nothing had said Yuuri was ever there to begin with.

His mouth was terribly dry, and his hair felt disgustingly greasy, maybe that was a tell.

Viktor's eyes adjusted to the light that was too bright to be morning but too dark to be midday; the sun was beginning to set.

_Jesus how long has it been?_

He reached across the bed he had grown used to being empty, deft fingers plucking his cellular from the nightstand.

15:54, December 15th

Viktor had dissociated for almost two days.

He swung his legs off the bed to get a drink of water, feeling numb in the best way possible. Different colored hues of light poured into his room, almost as if it was mocking the emptiness in his life.

_Well fuck you too Sochi._

Viktor grabbed a glass from the cupboard and opened the tap to fill it with water. In an instant the glass had fallen to his feet, head suddenly pounding with a pain that had centered behind his earlobes and the middle of his foreheads of his head.

Yuuri's voice is suddenly ringing in his eardrums like a big fat wake up call.

_'Vitya, Vitya I forced him. I forced Vitya._

_I made him do this. He was forced again. I hurt him._

_I hurt him I hurt him I hurt him he's the only thing I want to hold onto and the thought is terrifying because he's not human. He's not human. He was supposed to die, I saved him he needed to die why did I save him. He's not human I cannot stay with him I cannot do anything but he calls me Yuuri and I see myself as Apollymi before everything and anything. He calls me Yuuri and I am okay without trying to be anything else I do not need to be Apollymi when I am with him it's like Apollymi is actually dead when Viktor is alive and I know I cannot have him but I need him more than anything I've ever needed before and I don't need anything. I do not need food, water, rest or anything else but for some reason I need him.'_

Just as quick as Yuuri spoke, the voice is gone on a matter of seconds. Viktor blinks in confusion, _what the hell was th-_

Before he can finish the thought Viktor's eyes suddenly cloud with darkness until everything clears and he sees Yuuri, his face is blotchy and red from tears and he's running his hands through his hair as he paces in a room.

He's in Viktor's hotel room. And Viktor himself is dissociated on the couch.

_Is this from the other day? Wh-how am I....what the hell is-_

Yuuri's voice is pleading and desperate and worthy of viktor's immediate attention

"Help. Please. I don't-I don't know what to do. Please. Father, Mother, help me."

No one comes but Viktor can see that Yuuri sees something. His head is raised towards the window that overlooks the city. It's funny how, with the moon raised and casting a bright glow upon Yuuri's features, he looks intoxicatingly beautiful. But then again, Yuuri always looks beautiful. 

" _Please!_ " Yuuri cries suddenly. "Please! I can't, I can't." It's quiet for a moment, Yuuri's head is raised listen, eyes sullen and glassy from tears.

It changes in a moment. His whole demeanor changes. Yuuri's eyebrows furrow downwards, eyes suddenly darkening as a frown occupies his features. His jaw is clenched, fists clenched as he listens.

"No." Yuuri hisses, voice sharp as glass. "No. _You know_ I will not do that. And you also know I will not _allow you_ to do that."

Another silence follows. Not as long.

"Don't you fucking _dare_! Don't you dare touch him! Don't do it! Mother! Father! Please!" Yuuri's voice is suddenly too vulnerable to bear, the conversation is painful, that much is blatant even though Viktor cannot hear the other.

Yuuri's eyes are swirling with agony and nostalgia and the tears he cries along with the moonlight just makes him heavenly breathtaking. Yuuri's lower lip is quivering, face suddenly pale as he listens.

"He's not her!" He exclaims through a sob. The desperation is irrevocably heart wrenching, even while watching Yuuri sink down to his knees as he covers his face with his palms. "He's not her he's not her, _he is not her._ "

Yuuri cries into his hands, hiccuping through his tears. His head snaps up suddenly, eyes wide.

"Please no! You don't know him! He needs me!"

Yuuri hears a response that makes his face fall for a second before Yuuri is on his feet again, anger alive and pitiful tears streaming down his face.

"YOU'RE THE UNIVERSE FOR FUCKS SAKE! YOU MAKE THE RULES! YOU CAN BREAK THE RULES!" His voice is much quieter, softer, when he continues. "....you can _change_ the rules. if you wanted to you could."

It's too much sadness to bear, and it suddenly seems as if Viktor is in Yuuri's head, their senses have molded into a single star and each is experiencing the others emotions, maybe that's why Viktor can suddenly feel Yuuri's heart _breaking_ over and over and over and over. 

Yuuri loves 'him'. Whoever he is. Yuuri is in love with him.

And damn that is a lucky man. 

"Death, you will not engage in idiotic affairs with a _mortal_." A new voice suddenly booms, the disgust in the word 'mortal' startling Viktor with the echoes it brings. "I have lost my patience. Either you kill him or Phichit will. He is-"

"Phichit touches a hair on Viktor's head and I will rip him apart. _I will rip you and Phichit apart limb from fucking limb_." Yuuri hisses, the hatred is evident in his voice as he glares at the other whom Viktor cannot see.

"I restrained myself before." Yuuri continues. "But know that if Phichit get near him, I will not think twice. And you; you may be The Universe but you can be killed. You can be destroyed so long as it is done with a blade gifted to one select celestial; I am the one who holds the knife that can kill you.

And guess what? you gave it to me.

So listen well Mother and Father as I will only say this once: I cannot die as Death by anyone's hand except my own. And I will not show mercy to anyone who hurts him or anyone else I hold dear: neither Phichit, nor Otabek, nor Minako nor you will be spared. Do not tempt me and don't even _think_ about getting anywhere near Viktor."

Viktor. Yuuri said Viktor. His head is spinning and he is so fucking confused but Yuuri will kill The Universe (?), especially a Phichit and some people (whose names he cannot remember) if they get near Viktor.

"He is worthless in the grande scheme, Death." The voice- The Universe- claims, almost as if They were unaffected by Yuuri's threat. The atmosphere is much more lax than before. Even so, Yuuri listens with intense eyes with anger that leaves almost no room for the brown that usually swirls inside him.

"You on the other hand?" The Universe continues, voice too soft to match the argument. "You are the Crown Prince of _Existence_. You are more of The Universe than I am."

A long silence lulls the air for long moments. Yuuri gulps after a minute or so , raising his head to speak.

"I don't want it." He says softly. "I have not wanted it for centuries... take it away, _please_." 

"You are not ready. You have a long while before you are ready and I cannot help you with the path as you must figure it out for yourself. " The Universe gives that simple explanation, the air tense before a whisper of "So long, Death" is released.

The difference in atmosphere is instantaneous. The air is thinner and it seems easier to breathe.

 _I won't let them touch Viktor,_  Viktor hears distantly. _I fucked up, again but he will be safe from harm. I will make sure of it; you're so fucking stupid Apollymi._

Yuuri?

"I had ruined Yuuko's soul as Apollymi,"  the voice continues to say in a voice that is too familiar to Yuuri's. "I had ruined her and then I to kill Yuuko's soul and make another one for her.....Shes not the same. I killed Yuuko, so what will you do Yuuri?"

Viktor's eyes widen, breath hitching as he realizes that its _Yuuri's_ mouth moving and _Yuuri_ standing in front of him. But Yuuri's voice is not this. This one is harsh, mean, scary. 

_This is not Yuuri._

"I destroyed Yuuko as Apollymi, and now you will destroy Viktor as Yuuri."


	12. xii. in this hell of mine you are the only love i find

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apollymi is introduced and Yuuri goes back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi sorry for the delay. I hit a bit of a stump! 
> 
> Comments are really appreciated, they motivate the heck out of me so let me know what you all think! (: 
> 
> thanks for reading lovelies! x rory

Apollymi isn't malicious here in time. He isn't vengeful at this moment. He hasn't lost her yet. He's still very much in love with Kikyo; he's content.

He knows he will have to kill her one day, but right now; he has _time._

Here Apollymi loves humanity, he joins them every time he can and even better, he fits in with society.

Apollymi finds himself indulging in everyday affairs, from assisting merchants with their carts of goods, to helping the fishermen at sea.

Every day he bears a different task, but his life is simple and still exhilarating. And even though he is considered to be bathed in the same mortality as the villagers, Apollymi is happy.

Content is he with the heat of the sun on his back as he rows the boat that carries fish to shore on most days. Content is he with the sensation of a dish that is too hot and burns the inside of his mouth.

Humanity is so amazing.

Mundane emotions surround him, mortal senses cling to his existence; he is alive. His heart actually beats for a reason. Everything he does has a purpose.

He is Apollymi, not Death, not anymore, not now. 

And Gods, life is beautiful. 

Everything changes, everything will always change. But one thing that will remain the same for eternity is the beauty in The Land of the Rising Sun.

In the mornings to be specific.

Even when the days are hot, or the air is icy; the land is breathtaking. But more important than its beauty is the knowledge that Japan, is home.

And though the sun has barely appeared, the air is serene and calm; peaceful in the way Apollymi can smell the ocean less than two kilometers away and smile warmly.

The village isn't alive yet, so Apollymi can walk down the dirt roads lost in his own mind. He left Kikyo on the _tatami_ mat in their _minka_. He had planted a lingering kiss on her pale forehead before sliding open the _fusuma_ and slipping out into the morning.

It's cold; too cold for March. It's also too cold for the Sakura to bloom.

They aren't to bloom yet, at least not for another month or so.

So when Apollymi sees the Sakura trees that line the path that leads into town he knows something is wrong.

 _'No. No. No. No.'_ he chants in his head over and over again. Suddenly he's running while chanting a single phrase over and over, the words leaving a foul taste on his tongue:

_ 'I'm not ready, I'm not ready. I can't do it. I had more time. I need more time.' _

Apollymi is suddenly aware of the lack of goosebumps on his skin, even though it's too cold to not be cold. At the same time, he realizes the lack of heartbeats that he can feel, the stress in his mind, the tension he held in his shoulders, the lack of air he needs to run, the burn of his lungs.

He is Death again.

He stops. Looks around. Tears cannot form in his eyes though he knows he would be crying if he was human.

_'I am no longer human.'_

"You never were human, Death." He heard The Universe say as They appear in front of him. "You engaged in mundane affairs and experienced mundane emotions but you a human?" They broke Themselves off with a slight chuckle that echoed from Their hollow chest.

"My condolences Death, but you never held mortality between your fingertips."

Death felt himself wince, taken aback by The Universe's confession.

_ 'If I could feel the ache in my legs and the burning in my lungs I'd be happy.' _

"Now," They continue, voice edged with something a tad condescending. "We had a deal Death. you have experienced humanity with my power, and now that you have fallen in love, you will give me the Girl."

And Death did.

He did so because Apollymi, the only one who would resist, was shoved into a dark corner of his mind without a tongue to protest with.

Death agreed to it years ago.

And now Kikyo was stolen from in her sleep.

The Universe had wanted to take her soul Themselves but suddenly They thought of something better;

"Death... you do it. You are the End of Life, now you must end her life."

Death blinked once, and reached in without a word, grasping her light in his palm and feeling her flow into his mind, where he saw everything.

He saw her from the beginning of her life, as a chubby girl with auburn hair and brilliant hazel eyes that were a sort rarity in Japan. He saw her hugging her parents at 5 years of age, hugging only her mother at 7 years of age, and then hugging her knees to her chest as a 15-year-old orphan who did everyday chores for anyone in the village, sometimes being paid nothing.

Kikyo did not ask for much as payment. All she asked for in return was scraps of food for her younger brother to eat, and sometimes, if it was cold out, a warm place to nap. Not even sleep. Nap.

Pretty soon Kikyo would lose her brother to disease and also lose herself.

Apollymi comes in when she is 18 and her breath is restored in a way she cannot describe.

' _You are everything, Apo-san._ '

She is everything.

Apollymi doesn't recognize himself when he rebels the first time. The Universe cast him to Earth, to Japan after hearing Death's request.

_Death doesn't know how the air is, he cannot feel very much except the wind._

_But the middle of the desert is always barren when it is 4 in the morning. And while the heat still lingers in the air, there are instances when Death can tune out the calls of souls and focus on what is in front of him._

_Silence._

_Barren, silent and captivating as Death stands underneath the moon and the stars that shine greater than anywhere else in the world._

_He tilts his head back to stare up at the endlessly alive dark sky, closed his eyes and called out:_

_"Mother, Father. I need you." He whispered, voice reverent as it echoed in the desert where not even crickets chirped._

_The Universe had answered without speaking or revealing Themselves. But Death knew They were here._

_"I-I wish to live among humans, Mother, Father. Please."_

_The Universe startled Death when they burst out laughing, Death had never seen Them laugh. And the reveal of their presence had been sudden._

_Molecules melted together, fused, collided and burned to create a light Death had seen too many times._

_The Universe held themselves in the shell of a woman. She was slender and tall, with narrow shoulders but hips and breasts prominent._

_They made themselves as alluring as possible to entice humans. Males specifically._

_But anyways, They wore a smirk on Their cherry painted lips._

_"Oh Death," They said with clear amusement in Their voice. "and why would We allow that?" A low chuckle resonated from Their chest as They tutted softly. "Foolish child."_

_"Because I have not collected souls in over a week and I will not collect souls until you give me what I desire."_

_Death's words echoed clear in the night, The Universe obviously taken by surprise by Death's confession. The silence took over for moments in which They contemplated Death's request._

_"Why?" They finally asked, voice mildly intrigued as They looked at Death through narrowed hazel eyes. "For what purpose?"_

_Death hesitated for a moment, lips pursing before answering. "Because this job has ridden me of everything I ever was. I am meant to be empty but I long to feel emotions, I long to sympathize with them and understand why they die the way they do."_

_The Universe cocked Their head to the side, another smirk tugging at their lips, the lie was blatant to Them, clear as day._

_"Ah...We understand Death, you wish to love."_

_Brown eyes widened in surprise, lips parting as his breath hitched._

_"N-no, that's not it at all!"_

_"We understand Death, you crave companionship. But you shouldn't. You were not made for it. You were made to serve a single purpose._

_"However," They said after a short pause, making Death's head snap up to Theirs. "We will grant you your humanity, We will make you capable of love."_

_Before Death could smile widely, Their voice cut through his head._

_"On one condition....you will give Us the soul of whomever you fall in love with, and We will kill said_ soul _."_

 _Death felt himself freeze, eyes wide as he stared up at_ Them _._

Kill their soul? He will have to kill the soul of the person he loves, he will kill their soul, making sure they do not ever reincarnate.

He will never again see the person whom he loves once his time runs out.

The Universe never specified a time limit,

But Time always ran out. Minako made sure of it.

He agreed. 

-

Apollymi died that day with Kikyo. Although his personality still lingers inside of Death, Appolymi is the one Yuuri tries to stop and the one Death tries to destroy. 

He has anger, he has sadness, and while these emotions are not foreign to Death they are to Yuuri. Yuuri doesn't feel these emotions because the one who can is sealed deep somewhere inside himself screaming for help without a tongue to scream with. 

Death shares memories with Yuuri and Yuuri shares memories with Apollymi. Three people in one vessel. 

Apollymi is someone else but he and Yuuri share similar traits and it's terrifying to think they can be the same person but at the same time, Apollymi is the one who kills, not Yuuri. 

He is the one Death is meant to be; malicious, angry, empty.  

But Death wouldn't remake a soul. He wouldn't feel pity and make another one for her. For Kikyo. 

Kikyo was meant to die. And maybe recreating her was for Apollymi, or maybe for Death himself.

But Yuuko's soul is not Kikyo's soul, and it's not supposed to be her. Yuuko isn't supposed to look like Kikyo. She's not supposed to act Kikyo, or talk, or think the same way but she does and Death cannot look at her, Yuuri cannot look at her and Apollymi would rather die than look at her. 

Because her eyes are heartbreakingly hazel, the same shade as before. Her hair still flows in gentle, almost nonexistent waves down her back. Her smile is still beautiful, she is still a star. 

But not to Yuuri. 

There are days when Apollymi shows for a moment or two, and he looks back on their shared memories, and he sees Yuuko at Ice Castle with her husband and her triplets and Apollymi feels his heart snap. 

Sometimes he does it because heartbreak is the only emotion he feels. Literally. 

And he would rather hurt than feel hollow. 

He would like to understand Yuuri's infatuation with Viktor Nikiforov but his mind screams at him that it will not end well and all Apollymi wants to do is warn Yuuri, tell him to get away before its too late, to run, not to fall in love. 

But Apollymi is the most human of the three, even with no emotions he has felt love. 

And Yuuri is drowning in it. He only hopes Yuuri is fortunate enough to have Viktor there to drag him up and let him breathe. 

-

Yuuri needed to fix this. He needed to talk to Viktor. He just needed to know Viktor was okay. 

Viktor was still in his hotel room. He assumed everything that happened (after he and Yuuri did...things) was just a dream and he dissociated afterward. 

The Russian is vaguely aware of someone knocking on his door, but his limbs feel heavy and he doesn't want to see anyone. 

_That's a lie and you know it Viktor._

"Viktor! Are you here?" 

Viktor never opened a door so quick in his life. Yuuri stood in front of him with a relieved expression that was laced with a sort of longing Viktor could not quite comprehend. A tight grin sat on his lips that screamed fatigue. Viktor was sure he looked the same. 

It seemed like Yuuri was itching to do something, to say something but at the moment all Viktor wanted was a hug so he brought Yuuri in by gripping his shoulder and pressing him into an embrace. Arms flung round Yuuri's waist as Viktor bent down slightly to hug the Japanese male who let out a squeak in surprise.

"Viktor...." Yuuri breathed, feeling suddenly complete as his hands touched Viktor's skin. "We need to talk." Silence echoed between them and Viktor suddenly wondered how he ever lived in constant silence. 

"O-okay, I-I n-need to tell you som-something too," Viktor responded as he lay a gentle kiss on Yuuri's forehead. 

He brought the latter inside to sit on the sofa, the one he cleaned. It seemed odd to think of and Viktor didn't know if it was appropriate but he wanted to kiss Yuuri again, at least on the forehead and whole didn't seem like Yuuri minded Viktor made sure to keep to himself. "I-I missed you. I-I'm so sorry, Yuuri. I-I probably freaked y-you ou-out. I just... I hav-haven't done, t-that with any-anyone in a...long time and it was just overwhelming." 

All at once, Yuuri's eyes welled with tears. Viktor's own eyes widened as he stared at Yuuri who let the tears fall and spill down his cheeks.

"You...You told me to stop...I-I didn't." Yuuri said in a tight voice as he stared at his hands in his lap. "I didn't stop and I made you go on, I-I, Viktor. I-I'm so, so sorry. I'm so sorry, Viktor. I know what it was, I know that I f-forced-" 

"Stop." Viktor suddenly cut in. His own voice was constricted but he stared at Yuuri with dark eyes. "If you forced me I wouldn't have let you in. I wanted you Yuuri, and I suppose I still do. You did not force me, I forced myself to overreact when you were fantastic."

At that more tears fell from Yuuri's eyes, he stared at Viktor with sadness blatant in his eyes. The Russian frowned at the sight, leaning over to brush the tears away with the pads of his thumbs. 

"Don't cry angel, you did nothing wrong. You were sensational, zoloste, you looked so pretty when you were in my lap, you looked heavenly." 

 _Yup_ , Apollymi thought as Yuuri flushed red and looked away as he bit his lip, _Yuuri is in love and he doesn't even know it._


	13. xiii. touching him was like realizing all you ever wanted was right there in front you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "memorizing him was as easy as knowing all the words to your old favorite song," 
> 
> Viktor reminisces about his life and the things he wants to know, the feelings he wants feel and the person he wants to grow with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> schools out! im officially a senior! and that means frequent updates (:  
> hopefully you like this one (': its a bit angsty at first but then really fluffy towards the end <3 
> 
> ALSO, SPOILERS OF 'ANNA KARENINA' ARE SPOKEN OF, ILL MARK SO I DONT SPOIL IT!!!  
> SORRY BUT IT WAS NEEDED
> 
> like ive said, comments are fuel !! they really help motivate me and I love hearing what you all think so comment if you wanna (:
> 
> ((((if not thats cool too ))))

Yuuri keeps to himself when he returns. He lets Viktor instigate a hug, he lets Viktor's lips press against his, he lets Viktor's fingers graze Yuuri's skin first before anything else. There are times when Yuuri is genuinely unsure if it's okay to touch Viktor at all but Viktor meets him halfway, he knows. 

Viktor always knows. 

There's an itch in the back of Yuuri's mind, a faint reminder that there is something about Viktor and it's not just the familiarity of his soul, but his mind, his heart, his memories. 

The Universe said Yuuri was not ready, and while They had expressed this when Yuuri begged Them to take Death away, it was a blatant hint at something Yuuri does not know. But Yuuri has poured through every one of his memories, as well as Apollymi's and Death's. Nothing.

He has a sudden urge to visit Christophe, the Fate of the Dead and the Living, just to see what he knows. Maybe it would help, maybe it would just be enough to dustract Yuuri from the reminder that his fingers, these fingers that he does not even want, this is not his.

Yuuri wants a lot of things, but the calls of souls are loud and they force _Death_ to give in. 

He really hates his job. 

-

Viktor has to go home in less than a day hours. Well, when he says home, he really means an empty apartment that he uses to sleep but really shows no one's life.

Viktor _wants_ to say there are photos of his mother or the skating team hung on his walls or displayed on bookshelves or coffee tables; he _wants_ to say that his medals are placed somewhere in his house; Viktor _wants_ to say that it looks like someone lives there but the fact is that it doesn't.

The walls are empty, barren, and painted a pale beige color that looms over him, surrounds him at all times with never-ending reminders of the things Viktor lacks; companionship, love, _warmth_ , happiness.

There are no pictures anywhere, Viktor buried those years ago underneath materialistic items that hold no value to him and now he can't quite remember where said photos are.

So really Viktor isn't going home, he's catching a flight to Saint Petersburg, returning to an apartment that might as well be a hotel room with its emptiness, and returning to an everyday schedule that also never ceases to remind Viktor of the absences in his life.

The mere thought of it shrouds him with sadness, engulfs him in a cloud of _longing_ Viktor still cannot quite comprehend but knows too well.

He hesitates to tell Yuuri, who has yet to leave his side since returning from wherever he went during Viktor's.....absence.

Viktor knows he cannot stay in Sochi forever, he already misses the ice and the chill of numbing cold on his senses.

Although he dreads returning to Saint Petersburg, the city is a perfect facade that Viktor carefully sculpted for years until finally perfected to suit _Viktor Nikiforov's_ person. It was built to suit the person he forced himself to be.

Viktor vaguely remembers Yuuri telling him to be himself at the coffee shop, and he tries to recall the gaze Yuuri had given him after he had spoken but the reality of it is _Viktor doesn't know who he is._

He has spent so long trying to bury the parts of himself that were human and the crops of falsities he had planted now cover the person he was before. And the plant is covered in thorns, slicing Viktor's hand every time he tries to reach in and grab the boy he was before, it preventing him from seeing the past. And Viktor knows nothing of who he was.

What's his favorite color? Viktor Nikiforov's favorite color is gold, _obviously_ , but what is _Viktor's_? Viktor, the timid Russian born in a town he does not remember. Viktor, terrified, lonely, _tired._

He doesn't know anything about himself.

But he knows that Viktor Nikiforov's favorite pastime is reading old novels, designing costumes for next season and creating new choreographies.

_Who am I? Underneath Viktor Nikiforov, who am I?_

_Am I outgoing? Confident? Shy? Adventurous?_

_How do I learn these things? I've spent so long trying to get rid of everything else that wasn't skating and I've forgotten who I am._

** _Was I ever anyone to begin with?_**

-

Yuuri takes the news well. Too well, in fact, it almost hurts the Russian by how well he takes it.

"Are you going to be okay?" Yuuri says as he looks up from his book. (He bought Anna Karenina the day prior and has spent the entire morning buried in the book).

"I mean, I know I haven't really helped any, quite the opposite actually. But I hope you continue to learn about yourself and continue to remember your worth."

Viktor blinks at him, mouth slightly ajar as he watches Yuuri continue to read.

Cinnamon eyes flit over every page of the novel, a delicate finger reaching up now and then to slip underneath the edge of the following page and flipping it to continue reading. Viktor watches as his fingers bend to lightly grip the sides of the novel, a light hum resonating from Yuuri's chest all the while. The curtains are parted at the windows, morning light illuminating the room and outlining the curves and edges of Yuuri's figure sprawled on the couch, highlighting the tufts of black hair as they rested over the frames of his blue glasses, showing every dip in Yuuri's body as he moved to lay on his stomach, the movement accenuating Yuuri's hips, his butt and the thickness of his thighs, but mostly, it seemed the olive color of his skin radiated as he shifted to get more comfortable, as his hands came up to rest on his chin as he engrossed himself in Leo Tolstoy. 

Viktor had never seen anything more _captivating_. 

Full lips suddenly part in a wistful sigh as he glances off his page and looks up through his lashes to meet Viktor's gaze. His eyebrows are slightly furrowed and Viktor's breath catches as swirls of brown meet his own. 

*** SPOILERS COMING ***

"I don't understand," the Japanese man says, coming up to sit on the back of his thighs, tucking his legs underneath his body, he points down a sentence on the page below him. "Why is Kitty saying these things to Dolly? She's her sister and she's only trying to help her. It was really mean of Kitty to use Dolly's situation with Oblonsky to her advantage. I mean, its Kitty's own fault that she rejected Levin because she wanted Vrosnky and Vronsky rejected Kitty for Anna... she's mean." 

A mixture of a frown and a pout had settled on Yuuri's lips as he spoke and Viktor had to clutch his chest at the way it pained his heart. He looked up to Viktor for an explanation, to which the Russian gladly gave. 

"I mean, I think Kitty just had a moment of frustration and anger, I think she was trying to get the disappointment and shame she felt out of her and that's the way it happened. I know she regretted it, I do agree with you and believe that Kitty crossed a line. She regretted it the second it came out, but it also made Dolly incredibly insecure and it also made her embarrassed to have taken Oblonsky back." The Russian shrugged, eyes lowering to the novel on the couch as he continues.

"She's only 19, she's still a child basically, but I think we all say things we don't mean. Honestly, you'll learn that in the book but, for now....no spoilers Yuuri!"

***OVER***

Yuuri found himself letting out a small whine before marking the page and shutting the book. He blinked lazily at the man in front of him, offering a small smile. But all too soon, Viktor's switch had flipped, now as Viktor stared with dangerous eyes that screamed a sense of confusion and pain.

"Vitya?" Yuuri called, a frown settling on his features as he rose to his feet. Hands came up to gently trace Viktor's face, the delicate touch of Yuuri's fingers whispering over Viktor's skin, soft and fleeting but incredibly _tender_ in all its glory. Yuuri's hand cupped Viktor's jaw, raising his face to meet Yuuri's gaze. "Vitya what's wrong?" 

In swirls of ocean eyes, Yuuri saw a _hurricane_ of emotions, a burning star, phenomenon too grand to express.

All in one, Viktor was crying. He was breaking and while he swore to himself he would keep his distance and let Viktor come to him Yuuri _refused_ to ignore Viktor whatever he needed. 

"Yuuri, do you want me to leave?" He suddenly croaks, voice echoing his vulnerability as he gazes into brown galaxies that comforted him during silent nights.

"Vitya," Yuuri whispers, eyes softening as he stares at the distressed Russian. "Vitya what are you talking about? _Of course_ I don't want you to leave, but you have a life to get back to. I can't ask you to stay here....is that why you're crying?"

Yuuri uses the pads of his thumbs and wipes away the tears that have fallen from Viktor's eyes. Viktor still hasn't truly met Yuuri's gaze, the hollow look in his eyes inescapable as he cries silent tears that break Yuuri's heart.

"Oh, Vitya." Yuuri breaths with a heart wrenched expression as he leans in to press their foreheads together. Viktor's porcelain skin was flushed timid red, startling cerulean eyes boring into Yuuri's as his lips part to let out a meek sob. The Russian shut his eyes as he closes the space between them, his rosy lips are chapped but still manage to press into Yuuri's with such a careful delicacy Yuuri thought he was being kissed by a cloud. 

Viktor _always_ tastes heavenly, even when they kissed during the afternoons when Viktor's minty toothpaste had faded and the taste of coffee invaded the roof of his mouth. But it seemed a new flavor had entered Viktor's mouth at that moment. Yuuri could taste the agony that has woven itself on Viktor's lips, melancholic emotions mingling with the taste of caramel coffee, salted tears and pain only Yuuri has the honor of knowing. 

 _I would take it away if I could, Vitya.  _ Yuuri thinks as he brings Viktor closer, deepening the kiss as a hesitant hand slides down to rest on Viktor's hip and the other reaches up to grip the soft silver strands of hair. _I would take every malicious thought, every memory that haunts you and every agonizing emotion you experience and give it to myself if it gave me the honor to see you truly smile._

Viktor pulls away after a moment, eyes filled with an emotion that makes Yuuri's heart jump in his chest. Viktor's fingers travel to caress Yuuri's cheek, warm thumb pressing into the skin underneath his digits as he stares fondly at the sight in front him. Yuuri's gazes up at him through his lashes, brown eyes wide in curiosity as to why Viktor pulled away. 

A weak, pained smile curves upon Viktor's lips as he speaks. 

"You don't want this Yuuri." He says, Viktor's voice is smooth, raspy, heavenly and makes Yuuri's knees wobble a bit. "You don't want what I have. You don't deserve this pain. I'd rather suffer than watch you feel these emotions."

Yuuri blinks, a moment passing before he realizes that he spoke out loud. He hesitates for a moment before his hand curls around the nape of Viktor's neck, pulling him down for another kiss. Viktor lets out a surprised gasp before their lips are moving together in tandem, fitting the others perfectly. 

Of course Viktor has kissed someone before. He's had his share of kisses that have left him breathless, that has left him craving more, left him feeling desperate, feverish and lustful. But while Yuuri's kisses make Viktor feel the same and more, there's something about these rosy lips that make his skin feel like he's on fire. The way Yuuri kisses him is foreign in its timidness, as all the lovers in past knew what they wanted. But Yuuri's gentle touch is new, and while his inexperience is obvious there's something....reassuring in Yuuri's cluelessness. Something, alluring and almost, _seductive_ in the way Yuuri innocently kisses as if Viktor is something carved from bone china.

He wants to show Yuuri the new worlds that can be achieved through intimacy, through love Viktor isn't even sure exists but Yuuri is worth _everything_. It should scare him how much Yuuri is worth. But right now he just wants to feel Yuuri's skin against his own, he wants to hear Yuuri's breath hitch, wants to hear him let out those breathless moans, and beautiful whimpers that reassure Viktor that _only he_ can satisfy Yuuri the way he needs to be. While Viktor knows whatever they have is temporary, he plans to make the most of it. 

With that thought in mind, Viktor begins to kiss Yuuri harder. He presses himself against Yuuri's body, hands lowering to squeeze his hips as he slips his tongue into Yuuri's mouth.

Viktor feels himself begin to harden, and when he ruts against Yuuri's hips the Japanese man gasps. He begins to pull away to ask Viktor for consent but the Russian beats him to it before Yuuri can even open his mouth. 

"Yuuri, I-I want y-you." Viktor whines, beginning to push the pair backwards to continue on the couch. He feels the bubble of desperation and need begin to swell inside him and while he wanted Yuuri more than anything he also needed to know that Yuuri wanted him as well. 

"Vitya, h-hold on." A pair of hands clamp themselves on Viktor's shoulders, gently seperating the two men. The moment is now broken. Viktor's face falls as he gazes at Yuuri with confusion. "I-I need to talk to you." He explains with a sharp intake of breath. 

There they were. Those 6 words Viktor knew too well. 

-

Yuuri needed to hear it from Viktor's mouth. He needed to experience Viktor's lips form the words Yuuri already knew. He needed Viktor to say he was forced. 

And maybe Yuuri could forgive himself. Maybe then it would erase the thoughts that plague Yuuri's mind. Maybe then it would wash away those same thoughts from Death's mind, that although it was not Death's conscious mind that touched a man inappropriately and without consent, and although it was another owner of this vessel it was still Death's fingers, Death's mouth that spoke, his body reacting. 

'This vessel does not even belong to me.' 

Death wants to say that there is something that belongs to him. He would like to say his novels belong to him, his voice belongs to him, his very existence is something only Death can control. 

But the fact is, The Universe owns everything. They own every human, every body, every soul,

_They own me._

The Universe made everything from Themselves, They shared fragment upon fragment of planets, stars, comets, souls. They shared a portion of Themselves with everything that has ever come to existence and therefore own everything that has ever come to existence. 

With that thought, Death cannot say he is anything but a slave. And while the word slavery has a negative connotation, he feels as if a man with silver hair, ocean eyes and a false smile can make his bondage more tolerable.

And while both Death and Yuuri know these things of Viktor (Apollymi barely comes out to play), it would be the greatest honor to have the door Viktor has kept locked for years open. He wants to see the things that other lovers have seen. He wants to hear what others have heard. 

No. That's not it at all. 

Everyone else has left Viktor alone, everyone else has driven Viktor to a bridge at 4 in the morning with eyes that have seen too much and a mouth that has said too little. So no, Yuuri does not want to be like everyone else, he wants to show Viktor the life he can live. While Viktor's happiness is contagious, Yuuri can see through the facade that can fool everyone but not him. 

He wants Viktor to confide in him. He wants Viktor to trust Yuuri, to 'wake him up' at four in the morning because of a nightmare or because of his insomnia. He wants Viktor to kiss Yuuri's cheek, to recommend novels, to show him more Toltsoy, to introduce him to Pushkin, he wants to watch Viktor drift off to sleep while Yuuri reads 'Paradise Lost' by John Milton to him. 

Yuuri wants Viktor. And while these emotions are foreign, he knows what they are. And while Yuuri desires these things, he needs Viktor to open up. Just a little. And then maybe he can help Yuuri figure out these emotions that make his heart stop, that make his breath hitchas he looks at his silver glowed angel. 

- 

"I need to ask you something, Viktor. A-and if you dont wanna answer its totally fine," Yuuri finally says. Viktor has led the pair to the couch, sensing the seriousness of the conversation. Yuuri's eyebrows are furrowed the way they always are when he wants an answer. That and his eyes show a glimmer so beautiful that the stars envy as they will never match Yuuri's beauty. It takes Viktor a moment to realize Yuuri is expecting an answer. 

He nods his head as a silent confirmation to continue. 

"I suppose I gathered this from the first time we were.....intimate. And while I am not quite sure what our relationship is; i do not know if we are lovers, friends who fulfill each ohers sexual desires, or....something else. But one thing I am certain of i-is my need for your trust. I-I need you to know that nothing you tell me could ever drive me away. Forgive my bluntness, but I feel like....we're-we're connected somehow. Like our minds are entertwined and our souls are one... God I sound so odd. But when we were intimate... you acted different. And I assumed you were.... assaulted? So forgive me, but were you ever...forced?" 

Viktor was silent for moments that passed by so slowly Yuuri vaguely wonders if Minako had manipulated time once again. Yuuri curses himself, before adding. "L-like i said, you are in no way obligated to answer. I-if you are comfortable answering then I will gladly accept anything you tell me. But if not, I will understand."   


More silence follows, and a frown settles on Yuuri's lips. "Vitya?" 

"Yes," he finally murmers, head bowed and bangs covering those wonderful eyes. Yuuri's frown deepens. His hand reaches out to touch him before halting, second guessing himself. 

"Are you okay?" 

"Yes, Yuuri.... I-I was forced." Viktor says instead, finally looking at him with empty eyes. "I was 21 and in France for a competition. I-I haven't been i-intimate with anyone since. I-I suppose its because, in a way, I am still repulsed by sex. However, it's different with you. I-I'm not exactly sure how to describe it." A small smile peeks unto Viktor's lips. He chews on his lower lip, looking away as in thought. A small gasp escapes Viktor's lips before he looks at Yuuri with sparkling eyes that radiate an expression of happiness. 

"Yuuri, come with me?" 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aah the ending was a bit rushed. I'm sorry. 
> 
> I hope you liked it. I really like the character development so far (: I think these two are so cute ah. 
> 
> Its been almost a month since I last updated. But please let me know what you think! 
> 
> Until next time loves,  
> xx rory


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